Changing Frontiers
by blendini12
Summary: While Matt faces changes in his role as a lawman, he must also come to terms with a shift towards more heinous criminal acts.
1. Chapter 1

**Changing Frontiers **by blendini**  
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**Chapter 1 **

He had stayed up late that night, desperately searching through his medical books looking for an answer that had evaded him so far. A young farm girl had developed many of the symptoms of cholera but there hadn't been an outbreak in the area for many years. Besides, if she did have cholera, other members of her family would be stricken as well.

As the doctor continued to ponder the mystery illness, he slowly became aware of the sound of horses plodding along Front Street. A knowing smile swept across his face as he clambered to his feet and made his way to the window. Immediately spotting the marshal, he swiped his mustache when he noticed a motionless body slung over the backside of each of the two horses he had in tow. 'Wonder what happened to the other two he was after?' He thought. Immediately deciding they were probably in a jail cell somewhere, he continued to watch the lawman as he made his way over to the undertakers' office. He suspected the ride back to Dodge City was long and uncomfortable, as the marshal's dismount looked cumbersome.

For a moment, Doc's thoughts drifted to a conversation he'd had with the marshal just days before he'd left to track the men down. The doctor had been petitioning the lawman to take some time off and get away from Dodge for a while. The conversation soon escalated to an argument where Doc made some piercing remarks regarding Dillon's unyielding character. He'd pointed out the gradual changes in the lawman's disposition over the years and commented that his more enduring qualities had been suffocated by an overbearing sense of duty. In the heat of the argument, Doc made known a few more of his observations regarding the marshal's diminishing personality, which led to Matt getting up to leave. As the lawman headed for the door, Doc quipped, "See? Can't even think of a single thing to say to me, can you?" As the door slammed shut, he hollered, "Slammed shut…just like your emotions!"

Returning his thoughts to Front Street, he watched as the lawman took up the reins of the three horses and slowly walked down to the stables. Letting off a deep sigh, Doc pulled out his pocket watch and flipped open the lid. Surprised to see that it was already three, he snapped it closed and headed for his bedroom. As he began to undress, he couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for his marshal friend. Over the past ten years, the man had dealt with the worst that mankind could offer and had sacrificed much of his happiness and well being to do so. The playful and kind young marshal with the endearing grin had been replaced by a more serious and duty bound lawman. There was no doubt in his mind that Matt Dillon would always be a righteous and compassionate man, but Doc wondered if the qualities that he'd once found so intriguing, may have been buried forever.

As Matt reached the stable, he quickly maneuvered the horses into a couple of empty stalls. Removing the saddles, he gathered up any valuables and weapons and stuffed them into a burlap bag. After ensuring there was food and water for the horses, the marshal grabbed the burlap bag and tossed it over his shoulder. Picking up his rifle and saddlebags, he made his way to the barn doors and then stepped out onto Front Street. Glancing along the boardwalks and street, he was thankful to see that there was not a soul around. When he reached his office, he felt a slight hollowness inside as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Dropping the items in his arms onto the table, Matt looked around the dimly lit room and let off a deep sigh. Finding a box of matches next to the lamp on the table, he quickly lit it and turned the wick up high. Suddenly feeling very cold, he stepped over to the wood stove and went about making a fire. Stripping off his wet gear, he toweled himself off and then found some clean clothes to put on.

Heading over to the cot in the corner, he fell onto his back and then placed his hands behind his head. He could feel the symptoms of a cold coming on and couldn't remember a time he felt so tired. Suddenly feeling a chill, he reached over and grabbed a blanket on the cot next to his and pulled it over his body. Emerging thoughts of Chester's departure just a few months before were quickly stifled when he began filling his mind with plans for the following day. Within a few minutes, the lawman was sound asleep.

The following morning, Doc made his way down to Delmonicos to have breakfast. As he approached the restaurant, he noticed Kitty walking out of the telegraph office. With a broad grin, he remarked, "I thought you were on your way to Great Bend by now."

With a slight frown, she said, "Well, I was Doc, but the mornings' stage didn't come in." Shrugging her shoulders, she added, "Apparently there was a holdup or something just outside Garden City."

Tugging on his ear, he commented, "Oh you don't say. I wonder…Oh never mind. Why don't you come and have breakfast with me."

Nodding her head, she stated, "Nope, not feeling very hungry yet, but I would like some coffee." Taking his arm and guiding him along the boardwalk, she chirped, "But if you're buying, I may change my mind."

There were few customers in the restaurant so they quickly found a table and gave their orders to the waiter. Watching her as she busily placed her purse and hat on a chair, he commented, "Your friend will be disappointed that you aren't arriving in Great Bend tomorrow morning."

Sitting back in her chair, the redhead waited for the waiter to finish pouring her coffee. "I sent her a telegram telling her that I will be on the stage leaving Friday morning."

Inspecting the cup of coffee placed in front of him, he muttered, "Just as well, I suppose…what with Matt getting back last night."

Tilting her head, she asked, "Matt is back?"

"Rode in last night," he answered. Noting the questioning look on her face, he patted her hand and said, "Looks tired, but I couldn't see anything beyond that."

Raising her cup to her mouth, she stated, "You talked to him?"

They both sat back and remained silent as the waiter returned with Doc's breakfast.

Watching the waiter walk away from the table, Doc reported, "Oh no…no. It was three this morning, I just saw him from my window." Taking time to chew some sausage, he continued, "Besides, you know that Matt's annoyed with me right now."

Arching her brow, she glared at her friend and snipped, "I don't blame him Doc. You were out of line."

"Yeah, I know I was, Kitty," he admitted. "But what I said was the truth and you know it."

Narrowing her eyes, she remained silent for a moment and then quipped, "Some truth, sure. But some exaggeration absolutely."

Without looking away from her, he quietly uttered, "You know as well as I that that badge is sucking the life out of him. He needs to take a step back and start evaluating what it means to him." Noting the worried look overcoming her face, he added, "Look Kitty, Matt needs to take some time away from here. He is loosing track of himself.

Folding her arms across her chest, the redhead stated, "I don't know, Doc. I think he really misses Chester…that's a big adjustment for him, you know."

Taking a sip of coffee, the doctor commented, "Well, he's got Festus now. He helps out a lot."

"Not the same, Doc," she interrupted. "Festus helps out when he can, but he has other commitments. Chester was there for Matt all the time. He was like a brother to him." Arching her brows, she explained, "When Chester left for Kentucky, Matt's comfort and safety levels took quite a tumble." Turning to motion the waiter, she promptly ordered a breakfast to take over to Matt at the jailhouse.

As he finished his breakfast, the doctor thought about what the redhead had said. Placing his utensils down on the plate, Doc sat back in his chair and stated, "Well, you're certainly right about the impact Chester's leaving has had on Matt's lifestyle." Smiling to himself at a distant memory, the doctor chuckled and then said, "I can still see the two of them sitting on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse." Still amused by his recollections, he added, "They were like a couple of young bachelors just sitting there surveying the sights on Front Street."

Bursting into laughter, Kitty chortled, "Chester always up to his peculiar antics…with Matt looking on and not really noticing how silly it all was." Trying to contain her amusement, she continued, "Matt would question him about what he was doing and he'd be dead serious. Just so funny." Stopping for a moment to conjure another memory, her shoulder suddenly slumped and a tear pooled in her eyes. "And the way Matt would look at him…with so much affection." Swiping the tears from her eyes, she uttered, "Chester was his little brother, Doc. He didn't care what he was saying or doing, he just loved him."

Grinning at the redhead, Doc concurred, "You're right about that Kitty." Climbing to his feet, he dropped a couple of coins onto the table and said, "I should be getting back to the office."

Turning to see the waiter approaching with the breakfast she had ordered, she pulled out a coin from her purse and handed it to him. Accepting the package from the waiter, she stood up and looked at the doctor. "Usually you like to check on Matt when he returns from a job. Why has that changed, Doc? There was a slight edge to her voice.

Watching the redhead gather up her belongings, he decided that any further discussion regarding Matt would be ill advised. He suspected that the marshal probably presented himself quite differently around Kitty and that is why she hadn't noticed the gradual changes in his personality. Or, perhaps she didn't want to admit it, even to herself. Smiling at the redhead, he stated, "By gosh, I forgot about that. I'll walk over there with you and see how he's doing."

"Good," she quipped and then offered a slight smile.

When they reached the marshal's office they met Festus, who was sitting outside tying a fishing fly. Tipping his hat, he said, "G'mornin' Miss Kitty…Doc. You here ta see Matthew, are ya?"

Making his way over to the door, Doc groused, "Well of course we are…what else would be here for?" Ignoring Festus' response, the doctor walked into the office and found Matt sitting at the table with his forehead cupped in one hand. Stopping for a moment to let Kitty step past him, he watched in silence as she hurried to the marshal's side.

Slipping her hand along the back of his neck and then down his back, she softly uttered "How are you doing, Cowboy."

As the couple interacted, Doc glanced at two telegraph messages on the table that were directly in front of Matt. One message was pertaining to the recent stagecoach holdup just outside Garden City. Moving closer to read the other telegram, he could see that it was from the War Department and it appeared to be detailing new orders for Matt. He could only read the first portion of the message, as the other telegram was covering the bottom part. Suddenly noticing Matt staring at him, he cleared his throat and stepped away from the table.

"You have a fever, Matt," the redhead informed. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go anywhere…at least not for a couple of days." Pulling a plate of food from the bag she had brought from the restaurant, she searched the room until she spotted a spoon nearby a coffee cup. Placing the spoon in his hand, she ordered, "Here. Eat."

Eying the lawman as he picked away at his breakfast, Doc could see the sweat on his forehead and his pallid skin colour. "I'll drop by with some powders later on…they should help with fever, Matt." Dillon didn't respond, so the doctor started making his way to the door. Swiping his forefinger across his mustache, the doctor turned around and commented, "There's a very sick young girls in my office, Matt. At first I thought she might have cholera, but her family aren't sick." Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, "I don't know what to think." Annoyed by the lawman's inaudible response, Doc quipped, "I'll let you know if the town's in any danger" and then turned to the door.

Just then, the door burst open and Festus hollered, "Matthew, that stage from Garden City jist come in."

Pushing himself upwards with his hands on the table, Matt snatched the two telegrams and stuffed them into his shirt pocket. Hearing the redheads' protests, he quietly stated, "It's okay, Kitty. I'm just gonna go over there and interview the passengers and driver. Smiling at her, he continued, "I'll be back directly and then I'm gonna go get a bath." Walking over to the door, he donned his hat and then said, "Thanks for breakfast."

When the door closed, Doc turned to the redhead and inquired, "You didn't happen to read those telegrams he had, did you?"

Frowning at the doctor, Kitty stated, "No…I don't go around reading other people's messages." Observing the serious look on his face, she let off a sigh and said, "Alright, Doc. What did the say?"

Waving his hand, he answered, "One of them was about the stage holdup." Noticing the irritated expression creasing the redhead's brow, he quickly added, "Well, I could only read part of the other one. It was from the War Department and I'm pretty certain it said something about a transfer to the outer territories." Noting the grave look overcoming Kitty's face, he added, "I can't imagine that the War Department would stick a man with Matt's skills way out there. He can be much more effective having his base here in Dodge."

With a sinking feeling, Kitty searched the physician's eyes for a moment and then softly uttered, "I…I sure hope you're wrong about that telegram, Doc."


	2. Chapter 2

**Changing Frontiers **

By blendini

**All the welcoming back and encouraging words sent to me in the past few days has been so greatly appreciated. GS fans have got to be the most thoughtful and kind folks around!**  
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**Chapter 2**

Before long, Matt had drawn up a list of valuables stolen from the passengers and driver of the stagecoach. The witnesses were unable to identify anything outstanding about the robbers and some of the descriptions conflicted. The only thing agreed on is that there were two bandits and they both wore bandanas to disguise their faces. Wearing their hats pulled down low on their foreheads effectively concealed their hair and eyes. All the witnesses agreed that the pair appeared to be young and lacked confidence in what they were doing.

After insuring that the passengers had assistance in managing their luggage, Matt quickly made his way to the bathhouse to get cleaned up and then finally returned to the jailhouse.

Closing the office door, he quickly placed his hat on a peg and then removed his gunbelt. Slipping the belt over a wooden peg, the lawman went over to his cot and removed his boots. As he sat on the cot, he pulled the message from the War Department out of his shirt pocket and read it a couple of times. The ramifications of being transferred were beginning to sink in. He'd heard of US Marshals being assigned to the outer territories, but it was usually a designation for the younger officers. The veteran men were normally set up in an established base within their assigned territory. Briefly thinking of the prospect of leaving Dodge behind, he let off a deep sigh and then closed his eyes. With an embittered laugh, he uttered, "Haven't I done enough yet?"

Later on that evening, things were beginning to get busy at the Long Branch, so Kitty put her ledger book away and stepped behind the bar to help Sam. Smiling at a young cowboy as she accepted a coin for his beer, she turned to Sam and said, "Looks like we'll have a good night".

Pulling off a beer, Sam chuckled and stated, "I think you're right about that Miss Kitty. Sure glad I brought up that other barrel of beer."

Winking at her bartender, Kitty turned to see Doc and Festus walking towards her. Overhearing their usual haranguing, She rolled her eyes and then pulled off two beers for her approaching friends.

Accepting a beer from the redhead, Doc shook his head and groused, "This idiot fool here thinks that it would be a good thing for Dodge to have a sheriff." Shaking his head in disgust, he continued, "He thinks that would free up time for Matt to chase down criminals in other parts of Kansas".

Taking a sip of beer, Festus winked at Kitty and then said, "Ya 'ol scutter…that thars a falseness to what I said."

"Well, then what did you say…go on…tell Kitty," Doc challenged.

Shrugging his shoulders, Festus calmly stated, "I jist said that Matthew don't need to be dealing with Dodge when comin' back from chasin' down criminals." Noting the doubt sweeping across the redhead's face, he quickly added, "I jist think it would be nice if Matthew were able to enjoy Dodge. Not always havta be disciplinin' folks."

"Who in tarnation would want to enjoy Dodge!" the doctor almost hollered. Stopping to look around to see if he'd been heard, Doc lowered his voice and spat, "Nobody enjoys Dodge and you know it. And Matt would be the last person on earth to enjoy Dodge."

Placing his hand on the physician's shoulder, Festus informed, "Now Doc, ya shouldn't be talkin' 'bout Dodge like that. Thar's a lot of folk that are proud ta be here and call it home. You otta be more respectful of the citizens here 'n Dodge."

Briskly swiping Festus' hand away from his shoulder, the doctor glared at the hillman for a moment and then turned to Kitty. "I can't deal with this anymore. Come…sit at a table with me for a while." Picking up his beer from the bar, he scoffed, "Festus…you stay here" and then headed for a vacant table.

A short while later Kitty came by and sat next to him. He could see the subtle frown on her face, but waited for her to speak her mind. Briefly smiling at her, he shook his head and then took a sip of beer.

"What is this business about a sheriff in Dodge?" Kitty inquired.

"Oh it's just some speculation coming from Barney at the telegraph office," he replied. Covering her hand and gently squeezing it, Doc reassured, "You know how Barney gets things mixed up."

"Tell me more," she stated in a slightly demanding voice.

Patting her hand for a moment he pressed his lips together and let off a deep sigh. "I don't know what to make of it, Kitty. Barney said that the telegraph operator in Wichita had heard that some citizens of Dodge had asked the Governor about electing a sheriff." Noting the confused look on her face, he concurred, "Yeah, I know. Who in their right mind would want a sheriff when we already have Matt"

"That's ridiculous, Doc," Kitty barked. "After all Matt has done for this town, how could they…"

"Now, Kitty," Doc interjected, "You know how Barney gets to gossiping with the other operators. I'm sure this is plain nonsense."

Pulling her hand away from his, she quipped, "What about that telegram you saw this morning. Did Barney say anything about that?"

Chuckling softly, he shook his head and said, "Not a word. And that's why I think this is all idle gossip. If that telegram had anything significant in it, Barney wouldn't be able to contain himself."

Placing her elbow on the table, she rested her chin into a cupped hand. Without looking at him, she softly uttered, "I don't know Doc. You read something about a transfer in that telegram to Matt. This is an awful big coincidence, don't you think?"

Turning to lock eyes with her, Doc commented, "Look Kitty, I could only read a small portion of that message. It could have been regarding another matter or another marshal." Offering a reassuring smile, he added, "Besides, there can't be a person in this town that doesn't regard Matt as the best thing that ever happened here. They all know what he has done to make Dodge a safe and habitable place to live."

With an unsettling feeling roaming around her stomach, she turned to see Matt standing in front of the batwing doors. Watching as the lawman's observing eyes searched the saloon, she nodded at the doctor and said, "There he is now. Let's not ambush him with too many questions, alright Doc".

"Of course," the doctor answered. Adopting an impish smile, he added, "At least not until he's had a couple of swallows of beer."

Taking his time to acknowledge a few men as he walked over to the bar, Matt placed a coin on the counter and ordered a beer. Accepting a mug of beer from Sam, the lawman made his way over to the table his friends were seated at. Greeting Kitty with a smile as he sat next to her, he quietly muttered, "Doc".

As the marshal took a few swallows of beer, Doc took a moment to observe the man. Deciding that there was a definite improvement in the lawman's health, he announced, "Well, by the looks of you, you have managed to catch up on your sleep." Without waiting for a response, he quickly added, "Now you'll be ready to deal with the next surprise our little town has to offer.

Glaring at the physician, Kitty turned to Matt and asked, "How are you feeling Matt?"

Distracted by the antics of two young cowboys at the bar, it took the lawman a moment to respond. "Uh…fine." Noticing the look of concern on her face, he added, "It's just a cold, Kitty. Looks like the worst is over." Returning his attention to the men at the bar, he commented, "You ever seen those two around here before?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she answered, "Nope, can't say I have" and then took a sip of beer. Glancing over at Doc, she arched her brows and nodded her head in Matt's direction.

Clearing his throat, the doctor said, "So Matt. There's this rumour going around about Dodge getting a sheriff." Curios as to what had caught the marshal's attention, Doc looked on as the two young men were apparently trying to sell some trinkets. "Well, I don't see what's so interesting about that," he groused. Annoyed by the marshal's continued focus on the bar, he raised his voice and stated, "Matt…what do you…

"It's not a rumour," the marshal responded in a low voice. Climbing to his feet, he mumbled, "Excuse me for a minute, Kitty" and then made his way to the bar.

As he walked towards the young cowboys at the bar, Matt noticed their apparent customers stepping away. Eying the articles on the counter, the lawman picked up a pocket watch and said, "Where did you boys find these items?"

The cowboy on Matt's right answered first. "They're mine…I mean they belonged to my family." With an uneasy grin, he added, "That piece there was my Grandpas'."

Opening the pocket watch, Matt smiled slightly when he heard the tune of "Yellow Rose of Texas." Flipping the watch over, he noticed a weathered inscription on the back. "What was your grandfather's name, son?"

Glancing nervously at his partner, he swallowed hard and said, "uhm…Nathan Coburn".

"Um hmm," the marshal responded. Placing the watch on the bar, he glared at the young man and growled, "Then why does the inscription say Sam Wheeler?"

Panic washed across the young man's face and then he foolishly went for his gun. Before he could pull it from his holster, the lawman whipped his gun out and slammed the butt on the side of the cowboy's head. As the injured man crumpled to the ground, Matt quickly turned and pointed his gun at the other young man. Leaning over and pulling the gun from his holster, Dillon snarled, "What are your names?"

"Uh…I…I'm Jon Tailor and th…that's Grant Mullen," he answered in a timid tone.

Placing the young man's gun on the bar, Matt holstered his own weapon and continued to look at him. "Sam, could you gather those items up for me. I'll need them as evidence." Briefly turning to see Festus checking on the other young man, he returned his attention to Jon Tailor. "Where are you two from?"

Terrified by the big lawman's unwavering stare, Tailor quickly answered, "Wichita…close by there."

"Um hmm. And where were you two a couple of days ago?" Matt pressed.

Removing his hat, Tailor swiped his sweaty brow with a shirtsleeve. Glancing at the lawman, he stared at the floor and then softly uttered, "I don't know…I mean…we were just coming down from Wichita."

Folding his arms across his chest, the marshal quietly assessed the young man for a moment. "Alright Jon. I'm arresting you and your partner for robbing the Garden City Dodge stage on Saturday. You will stay in jail until a trial can be arranged."

"I can cart these boys off ta jail for ya Matthew…but this one's out cold," Festus stated.

Reaching over to the counter, the lawman snatched a half filled mug of beer and poured the contents over the unconscious cowboy. As the young man began to stir, Matt commented, "Don't think you'll have any problem with him now, Festus."

Grinning at the marshal, Festus stated, "Well, that sure did the trick Matthew." Pulling the young man to his feet, he waved his gun towards the door and then escorted the two cowboys outside.

Picking up the bag of stolen articles that Sam had collected for him, Matt nodded at the bartender and then turned to find Sam Cuthbert standing in front of him. Major Cuthbert had been antagonistic towards Dillon since he arrived in Dodge. Briefly remembering the incident at Meston Lake from years ago, Matt let off an exasperated sigh and inquired, "What is it, Major?"

Sneering at the lawman, Cuthbert quipped, "You're always real rough on folks, aren't you Marshal? Do you like beating on young boys, Dillon?

With a tightened jaw, Matt growled, "Those **boys **robbed a stage coach and could have ended up killing people."

"Humph," Cuthbert scoffed. "You're not a judge Dillon. But you've already tried and convicted them, haven't you?"

"I have more than enough evidence to warrant the arrest and request a trial." Glaring at Cuthbert, he continued, "That's when the judgment is made, but I'm pretty certain you already know that, Major."

As the marshal turned to walk away, Cuthbert grabbed his arm. "We don't need your federal law in Dodge anymore, Dillon. Dodge is a fine city now and can provide its own law."

Jerking his arm away from Cuthbert's grasp, Matt took in a deep breath and headed back to his friend's table. Ignoring the major's persistently baiting remarks, he offered Kitty a tired smile and then sat next to her.

Leaning back in his chair, Doc quietly commented, "So that's who's behind this nonsense about Dodge getting a sheriff." Looking over at Matt, he continued, "I believe Major Cuthbert has finally found a way to get rid of you Marshal Dillon."

Scowling at the doctor, Matt snatched his mug from the table and quickly downed the remainder of beer. Climbing to his feet, he commented, "I better get over to the office and see about the prisoners."

Knowing that the lawman would never leave his prisoners unattended, Kitty smiled and said, "You get a good nights sleep Matt. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lightly tugging on the rim of his hat, he said, "G'night Kitty," and then headed for the batwing doors.

Watching the marshal until he stepped outside, Kitty shook her head and muttered, "That old major has been riding Matt for years." Turning to Doc, she added, "He's always blamed Matt for Catherine's death."

***Major Cuthbert and his daughter Catherine were featured in a story I wrote years ago called "M/K: The Early Years". The major was a wealthy and substantial man with a huge track of land outside Dodge. He managed to dam the lake on his property, which resulted in the drying up of the creeks below the dam. Matt ended up blowing up the dam. Catherine fell in love with Matt and was subsequently shot in an altercation with another man.***


	3. Chapter 3

**Changing Frontiers **

**By blendini**

**Chapter 3**

The following morning, Matt arose early and filled out his report on the stage holdup. He also sent off two telegrams; one to the circuit judge requesting a trial and the other to the War Department asking for verification on a ruling for a Dodge town sheriff. After reminding the operator of his oath of confidentiality, Matt had breakfast at Delmonico's and then headed back to his office with two breakfast orders.

Unlocking the office door, Matt stepped inside and walked over to the jail cells. Offering the prisoners the plates of food, he told them that he was awaiting a telegram from the circuit judge indicating a trial date. Returning to the office, he added some wood to the stove and the poured a cup of coffee.

As he sat at his desk, he appreciated the soothing effect the warm coffee had on his raw throat. Turning his attention to the stack of wanted posters in front of him, Matt began examining the face displayed on each notice. Halfway through the pile, he heard the sound of the door latch. Absently resting his hand nearby his holstered gun, Matt looked on as the door slowly opened. Relaxing his shoulders as the doctor stepped inside, he pushed the posters aside and rose to his feet.

"Getting kind of cold out there for September," Doc complained. Adopting a grin when he saw Matt pouring two cups of coffee, he walked over to the desk and sat down. Placing a telegram on the desk, he said, "Barney asked me to give this to you." Accepting a cup of coffee, the doctor watched as his friend read the telegram.

Stuffing the note in his shirt pocket, Matt commented, "Looks like I'm to take those two up to Garden City to await their trial. Apparently Judge Broker wants the residents of Garden City to go through the process."

Nodding his approval, Doc stated, "That's a very good idea. They've never had a trial up there." Relieved to see that the marshal's anger towards him had softened, he commented, "Guess you will be leaving soon then."

'Yeah," Matt answered and then drank the remainder of coffee in his mug. "Listen Doc, will you let Kitty know I'll be back in about 3 or 4 days? I need to talk to her before she goes to Great Bend on Friday."

"Sure Matt," Doc said. Observing the lawman as he gathered the items he would need for his trip, he pulled two packets from his coat pocket. Placing them on the desk, he advised, "These powders will ease some of the cold symptoms you're having. I've written instructions on the packets." Clambering to his feet, the physician walked over to the door and stated, "I'll see you when you get back, Matt…uh…have a good trip. Oh and I'll be sure to give Kitty your message."

As the doctor opened the door, Matt stopped what he was doing and inquired, "How's that sick little girl doing, Doc?"

Hesitating for a moment to gather his thoughts, Doc replied, "You know Matt, I just don't know what is wrong with her. She starts to improve for a while and then it's right back to that feverish state."

"No one else coming down with her symptoms?" the lawman asked.

Shaking his head the physician answered, "No, not a soul. It's very puzzling to me." Stepping through the door, he stated, "Be safe, Matt" and then headed down the boardwalk.

Less than an hour later, Matt was on his way to Garden City with his two prisoners. He was happy to be getting away from Dodge, what with all the talk of a sheriff and the dubious War Department plans.

The three men rode in silence for most of the day, only stopping once to rest the horses. When they bedded down for the night, they were still another 20 miles out of Garden City.

Sleep did not come easy for any of them, as a cold wind ripped through the campsite throughout the night. Grateful that his young prisoners had been cooperative, the lawman cooked a sizeable breakfast with lots of coffee. Shortly afterwards, they began the final leg of their journey. They arrived in Garden City later that afternoon and went directly to the Sheriff's Office. Matt handed over the sack with the material evidence, as well as a list of witnesses and their current whereabouts. It was too late to start back to Dodge, so Matt had dinner with Sheriff Owen and then went back to the hotel for a good nights' sleep.

Matt was up early the following morning and began his trek back to Dodge at sunup. He wanted to get back in time to talk to Kitty about the recent news from the War Department. He didn't relish the idea of her hearing about it from others and was annoyed by the way she had found out about the potential of a sheriff in Dodge.

He rode for several hours, still pondering his future when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Galloping off in the direction of the shot, the marshal raced up a small hill and then came to a stop when he spotted the source of his concern. He could see three men who appeared to be ravaging a pioneer campsite. Quickly pulling his rifle out of the scabbard, he climbed off his horse and dropped to the ground. Crawling along the ground until he found cover, Matt raised his rifle and aimed at a man whom had his gun drawn. When the man pointed his weapon at a woman running for shelter, the lawman fired of a shot. Before the man even hit the ground, another man jumped out of the covered wagon and joined his two friends, who were already returning fire on the lawman.

It took less than a minute for the bandits to become overwhelmed by the volume and accuracy of the shots coming from the top of the hill. Two of the men scrambled to their horses and raced off, leaving behind their two fallen comrades. Matt fired a single shot at the men escaping, perhaps winging one of them, but the range was too far to get in another shot.

Matt quickly made his way down to the campsite and checked on the two bandits. Determining that they were both dead, he turned to the woman, who was now hovering over an injured man lying on the ground.

As he walked over to the woman, he spotted the deep red stain in the center of the man's chest. Matt bent down and pulled away the injured man's shirt. He appeared to be alive; barely, but the bullet wound looked bad.

"You…you're a lawman," the woman sputtered.

"Yes Ma'am, my name's Matt Dillon. What has happened here?"

"Those men…they shot Henry…and…and…" Desperation swept across her face and she stammered, "Marshal! The..they tried to take…Angie!" Grabbing his arm, she pleaded, "She's still in the wagon! Please Marshal…go see about her!"

Scrambling to his feet, Matt rushed over to the wagon and opened the canvas flap. The half naked girl looked terrified as she pressed her back hard against a trunk. Smiling amiably, the lawman softly uttered, "It's okay Angie. I'm a US Marshal and I'm here to help you and your folks."

Climbing into the wagon, Matt grabbed a blanket nearby and offered it to the girl. The girl cautiously leaned over and took the blanket and then pulled it over her body. Without moving any closer, the marshal reassured, "That's a girl, Angie. You're safe now". He considered the girl to be about 14 years old and it sickened him to think of what most probably had happened to her. Her darting eyes showed the terror that continued to torment as she pressed her back even harder into the trunk. "Alright Angie," he softly uttered. "I'm going to go outside now. You can join your ma and me when you're ready." Climbing out of the wagon, he added, "I won't let anyone hurt you, Angie. I promise you that."

Making his way over to the woman and injured man, he knelt down and quietly asked, "What happened here, ma'am'?"

Without looking at the lawman, she muttered, "They shot him…and my girl, they…" and then her voice dropped off.

Matt could see that despite her continued efforts, her husband was still bleeding badly. Gently placing his hand on her shoulder, he stated, "We need to get Henry and your daughter to the doctor in Dodge." The woman stared at him with a blank expression and didn't utter a reply.

Leaning towards Henry, Matt swept his arms underneath the injured man and scrambled to his feet. "I'll put him in the wagon, Ma'am…can you see to Angie?" Without waiting for a response, he carried Henry over to the wagon and carefully placed him inside. As he laid the man out on a small cot, the young girl quickly crawled out of the wagon.

Within a short while, Matt was maneuvering the wagon away from the campsite and heading towards Dodge. Angie sat in silence next to him, while the mother desperately tended to her husband in the back of the wagon. During their only rest stop, Matt found out that the family names were Mary, Henry and Angela Jackson. The women were still shaken by what had happened, but Mary indicated that the bandits had plans to kill both parents and kidnap Angie.

They reached Dodge later that evening and Matt quickly drove the wagon over to Doc's office. Jumping off the wagon, he tied the reins to a post and then rushed over to see about Henry. Picking the injured man up and pulling him out of the wagon, Matt wasted no time in climbing the stairs up to the doctor's office. Kicking open the door, Matt crossed the room and placed Henry down on the examining table.

Startled by the lawman's noisy entrance, Doc pushed away from his desk and growled, "What in tarnation is going on here?" Spotting the marshal placing an injured man on the examination table, Doc sputtered, "Oh…my…this man needs help." Quickly pulling the bandages away from the wound, the doctor inquired, "What has happened here, Matt?"

Glancing over at Angie, who still hadn't spoken a word since he first saw her, Matt shook his head and said, "Later, Doc. I gotta go take care of their horses. I'll be back directly."

It didn't take long for the lawman to secure the wagon and bed the horses down in the stables. He also made sure there was a room available at the Dodge House for the injured man's family. When he returned to the doctor's office, he found that Doc had successfully removed the bullet and Henry was resting comfortably. He was also pleased to see that Angie and her mother appeared to be more settled. Knowing that Doc would need some privacy to examine the girl, he arranged to come back in a couple of hours to take the women over to the Dodge House.

By the time Matt made it back to the jailhouse, he could only afford a half hour to get cleaned up before making his evening rounds. Changing into clean clothes, he quickly shaved and then made a fire in the wood stove. Closing the door on the stove, he started for his gun and holster when he spotted a telegram in the center of his desk. As he read the message, he slowly dropped to his chair and then read it again. Stunned by the contents of the telegram, Matt continued to stare at the note as wild thoughts danced through his head. Leaning back in his chair, he continued to stare at the telegram and softly uttered, "My God."


	4. Chapter 4

**Changing Frontiers  
**

**by blendini**

***A warning that upcoming chapters may be unappealing to some as they contain some dark material. This is a fictional story and in no way represents any particular criminal activity during this time frame in American history.**  
**

**Chapter 4**

After Matt completed his rounds, he helped Mary and Angie get settled at the Dodge House and then walked over to the Long Branch Saloon. Searching the room before entering, he spotted Kitty at the end of the bar talking to Marcus Fenton, the town's prosecutor. Stepping up to the bar, he ordered a whisky and then plunked a coin on the counter. Briefly conversing with Sam, he snatched up his glass of whisky and then made his way over to the redhead.

She'd noticed the lawman the minute he'd appeared at the doors and looked on as he went over to the bar and ordered a drink. He looked tired to her, but she could tell there was something else gnawing at him. Distracted from her thoughts when she overheard Marcus saying something about Matt being away, she smiled and commented, "Ah, yes…he has been away a lot lately."

Anyone could plainly see by the way the redhead's face lit up that she was very happy to see the marshal walking towards her. Marcus Fenton also noticed the dazzling effect and desperately tried to curtail his disappointment. He watched as the lawman gently brushed her arm with his hand and found himself envious of her coquettish response. When Matt ran his hand along her backside, Marcus took in a deep breath and said; "I take it that all went well with your trip to Garden City, Marshal?

Matt was so preoccupied by his interactions with Kitty that he had forgotten the prosecutor had been conversing with her. Smiling at the lawyer, he answered, "Those boys were no trouble at all, Marcus."

Swallowing the remaining contents of his glass, Fenton placed it on the counter and commented, "Very good, Marshal." Turning to the redhead, he tugged the brow of his hat and stated, "Lovely spending time with you Kitty. I'll be off now."

"Goodnight Marcus," the redhead said. Turning to Matt, she offered an engaging smile and uttered, "'Bout time you came by, Cowboy."

Feeling the intensity behind her smile, the lawman clenched his teeth and then looked over at her office. "We need to talk, Kitty," he quietly stated and then downed his glass of whisky.

Furrowing her brows, Kitty nodded at him and said, "Alright, Matt. We can talk in my office," and then walked towards the office. As she stepped inside the door, she suddenly felt his hands on her shoulders and then his lips caressing her neck. "Oh Matt," she softly uttered, "I've really missed you this time." Turning to face him, she crept up on her tiptoes and offered a long and sensuous kiss.

"Me too, Kit," he answered with a heavy breath. Pulling her into his arms, he maneuvered her over to the desk all the while kissing her tenderly. "Yeah, I missed you alright," he groaned. Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her on the forehead and said, "Feels like it's been weeks, doesn't it?"

Sitting on the desk, she grinned at him and stated, "At least that, Cowboy." Despite his current renewed vitality, she could still see weariness in his face and eyes. With a wry smile, she quietly added, "Not that I'm complaining, but we did come in here to talk, didn't we?" She chuckled to herself when she noticed his lips press together and his shoulders sag. Reaching up and caressing his cheek with her hand, she asked, "What is it, Matt? What did you want to talk to me about?"

Pulling out the two telegrams he had in his shirt pocket, he looked at them briefly and then handed one to her. "Looks like the War Department is agreeable to Dodge getting a town sheriff," he commented as she read the telegram. "The residents can start recruiting candidates right away."

"What will all this mean to you, Matt?" Glancing at the message in her hand, she continued, "All it says here is that you are to await orders."

Chewing on his lower lip, he shrugged his shoulders and stated, "They want to wait and see how things go with the new sheriff." Letting off a deep sigh, he added, "I could be transferred somewhere…or even worse, end up with no appointment at all." Noticing the puzzled look on her face, he said, "It means I would go to where I was needed. I would receive a telegram and off I'd go." Wrapping his arms around her, he placed his chin on the top of her head and softly uttered, "I don't know if I could do that anymore, Kit. It would be a hell of a grind." They stood there in silence for a long while, both grappling with the dubious possibilities of Matt's future.

"Would you like me to stay in Dodge, Matt? I don't have to go to Great Bend tomorrow," Kitty stated.

Placing his hands on her arms, he slid them down to her hands. "No. Brenda would be real disappointed and so would you. Besides, I have a job to do that could take me a while to see it through."

"Hmmm…is that what the other telegram is about?" she asked.

He didn't want to get into too many details, as he knew she would find the news very upsetting. "There's been some girls gone missing in the south and west of Kansas. I'm heading out tomorrow to see what I can find." He fought hard not to reveal his own sense of outrage and disgust.

Horrified by what she had just heard, Kitty grabbed his arm and said, "Missing…what do you mean? What is this about Matt?"

Shaking his head, the lawman answered, "Look Kitty, I don't know what this is about yet." Before she could interject, he added, "Don't worry. I'm gonna find out what has happened to those girls and get them back to their families."

"But Matt," she started with a fretful tone. "Those girls…what could have possibly happened to…"

"I'll find out…you can be sure of that, Kit." He was dead tired and didn't want to awaken the smoldering rage that was pressing to escape his rigid control. And even more, he didn't want to leave a horrible synopsis of possibilities in the redhead's mind. He wanted Kitty to enjoy her visit to Great Bend and not be concerning herself with the grim prospects of what may be happening to the girls. Placing his hands on her shoulder, he squeezed gently and then commented, "Let's go up to bed alright? We both have an early morning and long day ahead."

Sensing his determination to end the conversation, she smiled slightly and placed her hands on his chest. "I know you'll do your best to find those girls, Matt," she stated. Patting his chest, she chirped, "C'mon…let's see what I can do to get our minds off this horrible subject."

As she began to walk away, he enthused, "Ugh…yeah…that's a great idea Kit."

Suddenly stopping at the door, the redhead let off a soft chuckle when he bumped into her. Opening the door, she announced, "I'll just talk to Sam about closing up. You go up and make yourself comfortable. I won't be a few minutes."

"Alright," he agreed as he stepped past her. "Don't be long," he said with a wink.

The following morning, the couple said their goodbyes early and then Matt left to gather the gear required for his trip. Just before he was ready to leave, he went over to the doctor's office to check on Henry. Doc reported that the injured man's condition had improved but was still critical. Making sure they were out of Henry's hearing range, the physician verified that Angie had been raped. He also informed the lawman that there were no changes for the sick farm girl who was resting in the back room. He was still puzzled over her illness as she continued to go through bouts of feverishness and then periods of delusional thoughts. Doc agreed to see Kitty off at the stage depot and promised to watch over the jailhouse in case some potential sheriff candidate tried to claim it while Matt was away.

As Matt headed away from Dodge, he decided his first stop would be where he had met up with the Jackson family. He desperately wanted to search the campsite for clues and then see if he could track the two bandits that got away.

Rob Malis considered himself to be a very capable and smart man. He had made a lot of money as a gunrunner in years gone by and prided himself for never getting caught. It never crossed Rob's mind that the buyers of his rifles had slaughtered innocent people. And even if he did know that hundreds of lives were lost due to his illegal sales, Rob wouldn't care. He didn't care much for people in general. To Rob, they were fools waiting to be fleeced. The world was full of idiots that were there for him to use up; whichever way he wanted.

As he tentatively stroked his bushy handlebar moustache and beard, Rob's piercing blue eyes stared at the man across the table from him. Dan Bourdon was an unappealing looking man, with a pocked mark face and a nasty gash on his left cheek. He wasn't terribly bright and had a doer personality. The only reason Rob brought him into the gang was because of Bourdon's natural callousness. He was also skilled with a gun and his ox like size would be helpful in dealing with the 'product'.

The young fellow sitting next to Bourdon was Willie Albertson; another man handpicked by Rob. Willie was mean spirited as well, but had a handsome face and charming personality. He wasn't bad with a gun either. Rob noticed that Willie was visibly nervous, but Bourdon seemed almost cool as he sat at the table sipping a whisky.

Narrowing his eyes, Rob growled, "What were you doing that close to Dodge? I told you to stay away from there."

Clearing his throat, Willie sputtered, "W…we got kinda…sidetracked, Rob. Th…then we saw this pioneer family. Th…they were…prime for the taking." Widening his eyes and nodding, he quickly added, "Ya shoulda seen the girl, Rob. She was a beauty."

Slamming his fist on the table so hard it knocked a coffee cup to the ground, Rob snarled, "I told you two to stay away from Dodge!" Climbing to his feet, he yelled, "Do you know why, you stupid idiots?"

Bourdon could feel his brave front beginning to crumble. He'd learned long ago that it was best to hide fear from wild dogs and men like Rob Malis. Dropping his eyes down to the glass in front of him, he quietly stated, "Because that US Marshal."

With hands on hips, Rob wailed, "That's right, Bourdon! Do you know why I never got caught when I was running guns?"

Spinning his whisky glass with his hand, Bourdon took in a deep breath and uttered, "'Cause you stayed outta Dillon's district."

"That's right!" With that, Rob reached over and wildly flipped the table towards the two men. As plates, cutlery, glasses and an oil lamp went crashing to the ground, he screamed, "You idiots!"

Both Dan and Willie scrambled to avoid the table and dishes crashing around them. Crawling away from the mess, Willie climbed to his feet and then helped his partner up. Swiping off bits of glass and food from his shirt, the young man pleaded, "He's not gonna know what we were doin'. For all he knows we was just robbin' and piligin' those folks." Relieved by the silent lull in Malis' explosive temper, Willie let a slight smile cross his lips and said, "Besides, he had to take 'em back to Dodge. That gave us plenty of time to make sure there were no tracks for him to follow."

Glowering at the two men in front of him, Rob coolly stated, "Dillon is a very smart lawman. He can find somethin' outta nothin'." Looking across the room at a tall lanky man named Griffin, he ordered, "Go into Dodge and keep a watch on Dillon. Send a telegram to Wilson if he starts to move out." Turning to the other two, he snarled, "You better pray that Dillon can't find any tracks. If he does, we're all dead men." Pausing to gather his thoughts, he looked at the younger man and spat, "You ride up to Rustler's Bend. Stay there until I send word for you." Narrowing his eyes, he added, "If you see Dillon…kill him, Willie.

Before he could continue, the door opened and Jake Pardy walked inside. Unbuttoning his coat, he pulled it off and threw it on a chair nearby the wood stove. The only member of his gang that Rob had any respect for was Jake Pardy. He ran gambling houses throughout the western states and had connections from Oregon down to central Mexico. Jake had a masterful mind and a keen ability to find a demand for their illegal product.

"Looks like Ned's comin' with a wagon load from Denver way…maybe four or so. Pulling off his leather gloves, Pardy added, "Luke and Abe will be here in a few days with three more." Noticing the calamity in the room, he inquired, "What happened around here?"

Ignoring the question, Rob announced, "Good. Dan and I will wait here for their arrival. Jake, you make your way down to the New Mexico boarder and arrange things from there. Glancing around the room and ensuring he made eye contact which each of his men, he confirmed, "We'll start transport as the wagons come in. We still have the other boys out there looking for more. That could take several weeks before we have enough for the guys in New Mexico."


	5. Chapter 5

**Changing Frontiers**

By blendini

***A warning that upcoming chapters may be unappealing to some as they contain some dark material. This is a fictional story and in no way represents any particular criminal activity during this time frame in American history.**  
**

**Chapter 5**

It didn't take long for Matt to search the Jackson's campsite and find some clues about their attackers. He knew that two men had escaped, so carefully examined their footprints nearby where the horses had been tethered. The various prints told him that one man was tall and lanky, the other much shorter and stout. Mary had told Matt that one of the bandits was much younger than the others. She also referred to a rather ugly man with a large scar on his face. The lawman knew that the two he'd buried were not young and he was certain that neither had a scar on their face.

He also investigated the shell casings around the campsite and discovered that one of the guns that had been used, was extremely rare. Pocketing an unusually large casing, Matt continued his search for another half hour.

After following the escaped bandits' tracks for an hour, they eventually led to a creek bed and then disappeared. He explored both sides of the creek for two hours until he finally spotted a single hoof print in some sand. Crossing the creek and riding through some bushes, he rode out into open prairie. Riding slowly and painstakingly tracking the sporadic markings, Matt finally had to stop when he came across some wired fencing. With an exasperated sigh, the lawman cursed the latest encumbrance to his beloved plains and then dismounted. In recent years, he had noticed a burgeoning popularity amongst the farmers and ranchers to mark their property lines. Matt understood that it helped to thwart rustlers and squatters, but it also created havoc for the wild animals. Dillon knew that his beloved grasslands would eventually be carved up and sold off to the highest bidders. It saddened him to acknowledge that the beautiful, expansive prairie would soon be gone forever.

As he walked alongside the metal fencing, he continued to search for any sign of the bandits. Fencing had become more common in the southwest of Kansas and it always made his job time consuming. Finally finding a gate, he walked his horse through and then continued on his journey. Relieved to see that there were no livestock in the area he plodded along, occasionally spotting a print or overturned rock.

A couple of hours passed by when he finally caught site of a farmhouse in the distance. Deciding that he'd go and question the inhabitants, Matt urged his horse into a gallop and headed towards the house. When he reached a wooden gate, he dismounted and then made the rest of the way on foot.

Glancing around at the house and stables, the only indicators that someone occupied the property were a milk cow and a few chickens. He thought it odd that there were no horses or farm equipment, as it was late afternoon and not likely that they were still in the barn. As he walked over and tethered his horse, he also noted the freshly dug grave nearby the house.

Approaching the steps to the porch, he could hear some odd groaning sounds coming from inside the house. Quickly retrieving his gun, Matt crept onto the porch and quietly made his way over to a window. Carefully peering through the window, he could see a woman squatting on the floor in a corner of the kitchen. Silently walking over to the door, Matt stood to the side and let the door swing open. As the groaning sounds transformed into loud whimpers, the marshal swallowed hard and slowly stepped inside. With his gun cocked and ready, he searched the room and then made his way over to the woman.

Keeping his eyes on the doorway to the sitting room, Matt said, "I'm a US Marshal, Ma'am. Are you alone here?"

Staring at the lawman's badge with exhaustive relief, the woman uttered, "Yes…they left." Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears and she began weeping uncontrollably.

Leaning over and pulling her up into his arms, Matt said, "You're safe now, Ma'am. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you."

The woman continued to sob as she pressed her cheek into the big lawman's chest. After a short while, she swiped her eyes and stated, "Marshal…they killed Thomas." Once again, tears began to stream down her cheeks as she recollected the past days. Desperately trying to contain her turbulent emotions, she was finally able to state in a shaky voice, "They took… my baby girl…Marshal. They…took Lindsey."

Walking her over to a chair, he urged her to sit down and then went to fetch some water. Returning with a glass of water, he placed it in front of her and then sat in a chair beside her. Offering a kind smile, Matt inquired, "What's your name, Ma'am?" He could see that the woman had been beaten and would require a doctor.

After taking a few swallows of water, the woman forced a smile and answered, "Rebecca…Rebecca Collins." Placing her hand on his arm, she pleaded, "Marshal…you have to find my girl. Please, sir…you must go after them."

The image of the poor woman burying her husband by herself and then the desperation of losing her daughter hurt the lawman deeply. " I will, Rebecca, I can promise you that," he softly uttered.

Knowing that Doc was the only doctor within a hundred miles, Matt decided to take Rebecca back to Dodge. She protested his plan until he could reassure her that he would resume his search for Lindsey forthwith.

As they rode back to Dodge, Rebecca told Matt that her family was having breakfast when two men rode up. There was a younger man who seemed pleasant and friendly, while the other man was bad-tempered. Her husband offered the pair some breakfast, but insisted that they remain on the porch. Hardly any time passed before the older man plowed through the door and shot and killed Thomas. He then stepped over and started beating on Rebecca, while the younger man grabbed Lindsey and forced her outside. Just before she lost consciousness, Rebecca noticed the ugly scar on her assailant's cheek. She also overheard the younger man yelling from the porch that "Rob's gonna really like this filly."

They reached Dodge around nightfall and as they rode along, Matt noticed a number of signs regarding the election for the new sheriff. He counted about eight bulletins by the time he reached the physicians' office. Helping her up the stairs, he opened the door and found Doc sitting by his desk. "This is Rebecca Collins, Doc. She's been beaten bad." Taking her over to the examining table, he helped her lie down and then looked over at the doctor. "I'm gonna have to leave at first light, Doc. Her daughter has been kidnapped by the men I was trailing." Turning for the door, he added, "I'll be back later to see how's she's doing."

Quickly taking care of the horses and buggy, he grabbed his gear and headed back to the jailhouse. As he walked along the boardwalk, he glanced over at the Long Branch and suddenly stopped when he saw Kitty waving at him. Puzzled by the sight of her, he walked across the street and stepped up to the boardwalk in front of her. Letting of a chuckle, he commented, "Don't tell me there was another stage holdup."

With a broad grin, she stated, "Nope, I just couldn't bring myself to leave. Not with what's going on here."

Pushing his hat up on his forehead, he looked down the street and said, "You mean this election coming up?"

Nodding at him to follow her, she stepped inside the saloon and said, "Well that sure is a concern." In a quieter voice, she added, "But I'm more worried about those girls going missing."

Following her over to the bar, he softly uttered, "Yeah."

Cornering the bar, she grabbed a bottle of whisky and two glasses and then headed for a more isolated table in the back of the saloon. Smiling to herself as he rushed over to hold her chair out while awkwardly balancing the gear in his hands, she sat down and filled the two glasses. Offering him a glass, she shook her head and remarked, "The stupidity of some of the folks around here never ceases to amaze me, Matt." Taking a sip of whisky, she added, "But right now I am more interested in what you have found out about those girls."

Taking a large gulp of whisky, the lawman waited for the burning in his throat to diminish before he replied. He knew that Kitty would keep pressing until she was satisfied that he'd told her everything. Given her background, Matt understood that she was significantly affected by the news of the girls and would be anxious to see some results. Leaning back in his chair, he proceeded to tell her about the Jackson and Collins families. With her encouragement, he also told her about the bandits he was trailing and that he would be heading out the following morning.

As he talked, she took time to observer his face and noticed an expression she had never seen before. The usual weariness was still there, but there was a slight harshness that was foreign to her. She could also tell that he was working hard at controlling his anger.

Feeling uncomfortable under her examining eyes, Matt cleared his throat and stated, "That's about all I have for now, Kitty." Looking around the bar he added, "What's been going on around here?"

The redhead smiled slightly and then answered, "Not much, Cowboy." If she knew Matt at all, she knew that he would have his suspicions as to what was happening to the girls. As he continued to glance around the room in an obvious effort to avoid eye contact with her, she took another sip of whisky. Regarding his need to end the conversation, the redhead commented, "Looks like they have two men interested in the sheriff's job. Sam Redford and Clark Ebson."

Pressing his lips together and nodding, he thought about the two candidates for a moment. Sam Redford was a good man that had adequate gun skills. He had worked for the stagecoach company riding shotgun and showed considerable courage in a couple of incidents. Clark Ebson was another story. He was a former gunslinger and was now working as Major Cuthbert's ranch foreman. The thought of Ebson becoming sheriff of Dodge was of great concern to Matt. Shrugging his shoulders, he absently stated, "Sam's a good man."

Smiling at the lawman, Kitty replied, "Hmmm. But not so much Clark, huh?"

Chuckling at the sarcastic look on her face, Matt finished his whisky and then stated, "You wanna go get something for dinner?" He considered that he'd rather go upstairs and get into bed with her, but that would be impossible at such an early hour. Sitting with her at Delmonico's would have to do for now.

Kitty had already had dinner with Doc earlier in the evening, but she knew he needed to be with her. Deciding she could probably eat some dessert, she chirped, "Alright…that sounds like a good idea, Matt." As he picked up his gear, she stated, "Why don't you drop that stuff at the office and I'll meet you at the restaurant in ten minutes?"

After dinner, they arranged to meet up later in the evening and then Matt walked her back to the Long Branch. On his way over to the jailhouse, he noticed a shadowy figure sitting in a chair outside the office. Stepping onto the boardwalk, he soon recognized Clark Ebson.

Standing up, Clark offered an irritating smile and jeered, "Well, if it's not the soon to be deposed Marshal Dillon."

Unlocking the office door, the lawman grumbled, "What do you want, Ebson?" Clark Ebson didn't really look like a gunman to Matt. He had the face of a kinder, good-natured soul and his brown eyes maintained eye contact: not the usual shiftiness. It was his brazen way of talking that gave him away.

Upgrading his smile to an even more annoying grin, Clark informed, "I just wanted to see how yer coping with loosing your job.

Matt opened the door and commented, "As long as there's men like you around, Ebson, there will be plenty of work for me."

With an exaggerated laugh, Clark chirped, "I just wanted to come over and ask you when you will be turning your office over to me."

Stepping through the door, Matt replied, "Federal property, Ebson. Not gonna happen. Besides, nobody in their right mind would choose you over Sam Redford." Closing the door, he walked over to the table and lit a lantern. As he added to his supplies, he wondered if Major Cuthbert would find a way to sway the votes in Ebson's favour. When he finished replenishing his gear, he sat down at his desk and wrote a telegram giving the War Department details of his findings. Placing the message in his pocket, he closed up the office and then went over to see the town's doctor.

Hearing the door open, Doc looked up to see his tired looking marshal friend walk into the office. "You look like you've been out on the trail for a week," he informed. And then, remembering the upcoming election for sheriff, he chortled, "Looks like we've got a couple of people that want your job."

With a slight smile, Matt tossed his hat onto the examining table and then dropped into a chair next to the desk. "They're welcome to it," he retorted. Raking a hand through his hair, he said, "How are those families doing, Doc?"

Pulling a bottle of whisky and two glasses out of his drawer, the doctor answered, "They're doing well, Matt. Mary has taken it upon herself to look after Angie and Mrs. Collins over at the Dodge House." Filling the two glasses with whisky, he continued, "I've got Henry recovering in the back room. Oh and Celia…she's that little farm gal that was so sick? She is with her family over at Ma Smalley's." Seeing the confused look on the lawman's face, he explained, "She seems to have recovered from whatever it is she had." Swiping his forefinger across his moustache, the doctor continued, "She refuses to talk though. I thought she would be more comfortable at Ma's. That way, I can still keep an eye on her."

Leaning his elbow on the desk, Matt picked the glass up with his opposite hand and took a large gulp. "Where did Celia come from?" he inquired.

"The Perkins family…they live some 50 miles southwest of Dodge," the doctor replied.

Chewing on his lower lip for a moment, Matt asked, "Any chance her symptoms could be related to a disturbing experience?"

Perplexed by the lawman's question, Doc thought for a moment and then replied, "I suppose it's possible. I don't know about the fever, but certainly the delusional state and now the silence." With a look of concern spreading across his face, the physician queried, "What on earth are you getting at, Matt?"

Letting off an exhaustive sigh, the lawman shook his head and commented, "I don't know, Doc. Maybe I'm reading into things that just aren't there." Responding to the doctor's fixed gaze, he took another gulp of whisky and then divulged his findings over the past couple of days.

As the physician listened intently, he could see the emotional impact the investigation was having on the lawman. He had known Matt since the war and felt that he could read him as well as anybody. Except for the redhead, perhaps. Although the marshal had become even more skilled at hiding his emotions, a practiced eye and trained ear could uncover his secrets. As Matt continued to talk, he over enunciated certain words and clenched his hands. His rigid jaw and darkening eyes exposed a bitterness that Doc had never seen in his friend. It didn't take long before the doctor realized that there was more to the story than what Matt was indicating. When the lawman stopped speaking and leaned back in his chair, Doc queried, "What's your gut telling you, son?"

Swallowing hard, the marshal stared at the ground for a moment. His breathing became laboured as he thought about what to say to his friend. Finally, looking over at the doctor, Matt stated in an uneven voice, "They're being sold to brothels."

The doctor was stunned by his answer, but even more shaken by the profound combination of anger and sadness reflected in the lawman's face. Quickly replenishing the marshal's glass, Doc looked on as the lawman swallowed the entire contents. The physician had read about such things happening in other countries or in less civilized times. It sickened him that it could be a possibility right there in Kansas. Noticing that the lawman was still coping with his intense state, he quietly asked, "How bad is it, Matt."

Climbing to his feet, Dillon walked over to the window and peered outside. "It's bad, Doc. Possibly three girls here in Dodge and another five missing in other areas." Turning to look at the doctor, he added, "Those are just the one's reported…who knows what the real total is."

"What are you going to do, Matt," the doctor asked. "You're not going to try to deal with this on your own, are you?"

Walking over to the examination table, the marshal pick up his hat and began twirling it. "Nope," he replied. I'm gonna track them until I find out where they are hiding out. Then I'll figure out what's going on and send for some help." Placing his hat on his head, he said, "Look after Kitty while I'm gone, okay Doc? All of this is really upsetting her."

Clambering to his feet he walked over to the lawman and stated, "Of course I will Matt. How much does she know about this?"

"Enough," he replied. "And what she doesn't know, she will soon figure out." Turning for the door, he remembered the telegram for the War Department. "Oh," he started. Pulling out the message from his pocket, he handed it to the doctor. "Can you take this over to Barney tomorrow morning? I'll be leaving before he opens the telegraph office."

Leaving the doctor's office, Matt quickly completed his rounds and then made his way back to the jailhouse. Assured that he had packed everything he would need for his journey, he locked up the office and headed over to the Long Branch. Noticing that all the lights were turned down in the saloon, he smiled at the realization that Kitty had closed early. Making his way over to the back entrance, he was surprised by his renewed energy as he bounded up the stairs. Using the key he fished out of his pocket, he slipped through the door and locked it from the inside. By the time he reached her door, there was only one thing on his mind. Tapping on the door, he heard a muffled greeting and then stepped into her boudoir. Quickly removing his hat and gun belt, he sat on a chair and pulled off his boots. Stripping off his coat, Matt stood up as Kitty came out of her bathroom and walked towards him.

Smiling at him, she commented in a low voice, "I was beginning to wonder if I'd see..." Before she could finish, Matt wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her with a feverish intensity. As he continued to kiss her, he guided her towards the bed, while managing to remove the barrette holding up her hair. With her hair tumbling down past her now naked shoulders, Kitty found herself being picked up and gently laid on the bed. Watching the lawman as he urgently stripped off his clothing, she quietly stated, "So it's going to be one of those kind of evenings." The thoughts of a romantic rendezvous quickly vanished from her mind. She knew her man needed her badly and she was more than willing to fulfill those needs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Changing Frontiers**

By blendini

*****A warning that upcoming chapters may be unappealing to some as they contain some dark material. This is a fictional story and in no way represents any particular criminal activity during this time frame in American history.****  
**

**Chapter 6**

The late September sun came up low in the sky and flooded the bedroom with warm beams of light. Opening her eyes, she looked over at Matt, who was staring at the ceiling. Recalling the wild passion of the night before, she reached over and stroked his chest. "Still trying to get your energy back?"

His reddening cheeks made her chuckle. His modest reserve was one of her favourite traits. "I can understand your need to rest up," she teased. Watching the anticipated frown creep across his face, she adopted a throaty voice and added, "It's good to see your breathing is back to normal."

Leaning on an elbowed arm, he embellished a stern look and said, "Had enough fun yet, Red?" When she offereded an impish grin, he leaned over and gently kissed her lips. Stopping for a moment, he softly uttered, "I'm sorry, Kitty."

"Don't be," she answered and then pulled him close for one last lingering kiss.

It wasn't long before Matt was back in the saddle and riding across the plains in a southwesterly direction. The all to brief return to Dodge had had an uplifting affect on his disposition, despite the bleak task that lay ahead. After a few hours, he passed by the Collins farm and then adjusted his pace in order to begin tracking again.

Following the trail of the bandits was painstaking and time consuming. Constantly leaning over his horse to inspect the ground was causing his neck and back to stiffen up. The occasional walking fence lines and stopping to open gates was slowing him down as well. At one point, he came across a young deer that was trapped in some wired fencing. Quickly dismounting, he walked over to the animal and knelt down beside it. Noticing the tiny nodules protruding through the furry head, Matt quietly coaxed, "You're ok, boy…let me get you outta this mess." He could see the extreme fright in the buck's eyes, but the body was almost limp from expended energy. Carefully pulling the wire away, the lawman continued to utter reassuring words. Finally releasing the animal from its barbed death trap, Matt leaned back on his heels and watched the deer stagger away. The buck took a few more shaky steps and then stopped for a moment. Suddenly, revitalized by a renewed sense of freedom, the young deer broke into a steady trot and then dashed off in a northerly direction. Climbing back into the saddle, the lawman returned his focus to the job at hand and continued on his journey.

As the skies in the east started to darken, Matt quickly established a campsite and then settled in for the night. The next morning, he prepared enough breakfast that would enable him to travel for a long while without stopping to eat.

After many hours in the saddle, the lawman stopped for a while to drink some water and stretch out his legs and torso. Although Matt knew the area well, he pulled out his map of the region and reviewed his position. He had decided that the bandits were heading for a small, unclaimed area situated next to the Indian Territories and located between Kansas and New Mexico. It made sense that these men would do their bidding in an area that was unestablished and lawless. Deciding it was at least 2 more days ride to Elkhart, which was nearby the Kansas border, the lawman quickly mounted up and continued his on his way. A couple of hours later, Matt rode into a small town called Hugoton. He found the telegraph office and sent off a message to Deputy US Marshal Scott Stevens. Without giving any details, he asked his friend to meet him in Elkhart and bring two good men. He also sent a telegram to Kitty via the doctor in Dodge, stating that he'd almost reached his destination. Deciding to stay the night in Hugoton, Matt utilized the time to refurbish his supplies and have a bath and shave. A good night's sleep in a hotel room would improve his clarity and determination to find the men he was trailing.

The following day went quickly and Matt was certain that the men he was trailing had headed for Elkhart: perhaps even stopping over on their way to the unclaimed territory. No longer having to search for tracks made his ride much easier and he was able to cover a lot of ground. The thought that he could reach Elkhart before nightfall on the following day, spurred him on.

The next morning, the lawman was up early and ready for his final day of long distance riding. Packing up his belongings, he quickly readied his horse and then started off on the ride to Elkhart. After several hours in the saddle, Matt decided that he would take a break at Rustler's Bend, not more that a few minutes away.

As approached his favoured rest area, the lawman began to experience the uncomfortable, but all too familiar sensation of being watched. Stopping to take a drink from his canteen, he used the opportunity to survey the area. As he looked around, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but established that there was only one good place for an ambush. As he continued to advance towards the bend, he kept his eyes on an outcrop of massive rocks, just a couple of hundred feet away. Suddenly noticing a slight movement, Matt spurred his horse into a gallop and raced over to a huge bolder for protection. Quickly dismounting his horse, he pulled his rifle from its scabbard and cautiously peeked out from behind the rock. Noticing the barrel of a rifle resting on a rock, Matt opened fire and let off six shots. As a man ran towards another grouping of rocks, Matt rushed over to take cover behind another boulder farther along the road. Patiently waiting for his assailant to take aim, Matt quickly plugged six more bullets into the chamber of his Winchester. Noticing a sudden flash of light when the sunlight reflected on his bushwhacker's rifle barrel, the lawman fired off a volley of shots and then quickly reloaded.

For several minutes, there was complete stillness and Matt patiently waited for his attacker's next move. Another few minutes went by and there was still no movement or sound coming from the rocks not 70 feet away. The marshal called out to the assailant and identified himself. He also ordered the man to abandon his position and come out into full view. After a long wait, Matt cautiously made his way over to the gunman, occasionally taking cover behind rocks along his way. On his final approach, he spotted the man lying on the ground. Carefully stepping closer, the marshal could see that his attacker had taken a bullet in the chest and was clearly beyond medical help.

Closing in on the injured man, Matt kicked the abandoned rifle away from his reach and then crouched down to look at the bullet wound. It was obvious by the amount of blood that the bullet was lodged in the heart. Searching the dying man's young face, he could see that he was still conscious. As the usual remorse from killing a man; especially one so young flooded his thoughts, the marshal quietly stated, "What's your name, son?"

With tears filling his eyes, the young man answered, "W…Willie. Albertson." As he pressed his eyelids together and grimaced, large tears slipped away from his eyes.

"Why were you shooting at me Willie?" Matt asked.

"Had to," he quivered. "You…were gonna…find us."

Noticing the blood coming from the young man's mouth, Dillon thought for a moment and then stated, "Look Willie. You don't have a lot of time left." Lifting Willie's head up and placing a tattered cowboy hat underneath, Matt advised, "You might wanna make things right, son."

Turning his eyes skyward, Willie watched as a large cloud floated by. As more tears filled his eyes, he stated in a wheezy voice, "Wh…what…do ya…wanna…know Marsh…al."

Matt could see that the boy was going into shock, as his body was beginning to shake with uncontrolled shivers. Taking off his coat, the lawman placed it over him and asked, "How many men?"

Closing his eyes, Willie coughed up some blood and turned his head to spit it onto the ground. "Twelve. They're…meeting up at a cabin…in the waste…land. More coming…from N…New Mex…ico."

The boy's eyes began to roll upwards, so Matt shook him and said, "How many girls do they have, Willie?"

Startled by the shaking motion, the young man opened his eyes and answered, "Fifteen…maybe more." Raising his hand and grasping Matt's arm, he continued, "Th…they're gonna…sell to brothels…in the…west." With tears now flowing freely to the ground, he quietly added, "Some to Mex…ico as…slaves."

The marshal could see that the boy only had minutes remaining. He desperately wanted the name of their leader, so he asked what he knew would be his final question.

As the boy began to wheeze with each breath, his blurry eyes filled with fright. He heard the lawman's question and struggled to form the words to answer him. "Rob Mal…is," he stated with a whimper. As the light in the sky began to fade, Willie sputtered, "Tell…them…I…I'm…sorry" and then the remaining light slipped away forever.

Placing the palm of his hand over the young man's eyelids, Matt forced the eyes shut and then whispered, "I'll do that Willie."

Climbing to his feet, the lawman looked around Rustler's Bend and suddenly felt very empty inside. Noticing the buzzard's congregating in the sky, he let off a deep sigh and then began gathering rocks to cover Willie's body.

An hour later, Matt was riding along the grassy road to Elkhart. Forcing the nauseating thoughts about the missing girls out of his mind, he focused on the other information Willie had given him. He was familiar with the name Rob Malis and remembered that he was a gunrunner years ago. A wanted poster was never issued for Malis so recognition would be impossible. He also explored his memory of the unclaimed land and thought about the various old cabins he'd seen in the area.

Several hours later, Matt found himself riding down the only road in Elkhart, Kansas. It wasn't much of a town, but it did have a hotel and a stable for his horse. Nodding slightly at a man leaning against a post in front of the town's only saloon, the lawman continued on until he reached the stables. After making sure his horse was taken care of, Matt collected his belongings and then went to see about securing a room at the hotel.

Locking his belongings in his hotel room, the marshal quickly made his way downstairs and headed over to the saloon. Before stepping inside, the lawman glanced around the room and then walked over to the bar. Ordering a beer and without looking at the man standing beside him, he quietly stated, "You're a sight for sore eyes."

Deputy Marshal Scott Stevens smiled slightly before taking a large gulp of whisky. He considered Matt Dillon his most trusted friend and would grant pretty much any request the lawman made of him. "Doug and Ray should be here sometime tomorrow afternoon," he commented and then took another sip of whisky.

Matt considered the names that his friend had voiced. Doug Everton was a US marshal in Southeastern Colorado and Ray Westin was his deputy. He knew both men and had even worked alongside Marshal Everton as a deputy while stationed in the Dakotas. He believed that both of the men were very solid and highly skilled lawmen.

Taking a few swallows of beer and then wiping his shirtsleeve across his mouth, Matt said, "Good. Let's go and have something to eat and then we can go back to the hotel and I'll fill you in."

Catching a glimpse of his friend's face, Scott noticed the familiar blend of concern and sadness. Downing the remainder of his whisky, he flipped a coin on the bar to pay for both drinks and then stated, "Sounds good, Matt." As he followed the lawman outside, he announced, "The restaurant is off to the right.

***Scott Stevens met Matt Dillon when the younger man's Uncle Tanner forcibly brought him to an orphanage in southern Texas. Both boys' fathers were lawmen who were subsequently gunned down while performing their duties. Matt had lost his mother due to illness and Scott's mother abandoned him after his father had been murdered. They soon became fast friends and their bond remained strong throughout their lives. Scott was featured in "M/K: The Early Years", "Say Uncle" and "Kittyless." In the later story, outlaws in Hays City murdered Scott and his wife. On his deathbed, Scott asked Matt and Kitty to care for his 4yr old son, Robbie. ***


	7. Chapter 7

**Changing Frontiers **

**by blendini**

*********A warning that upcoming chapters may be unappealing to some as they contain some dark material. This is a fictional story and in no way represents any particular criminal activity during this time frame in American history.**

**Chapter 7**

As she reread his telegram, Kitty smiled at the clever nuances made to only have meaning to her. Folding the note in half, she placed it in her cashbox and then went back to balancing the figures in her ledger book.

A short while later, she looked up to see Marcus Fenton walking into the saloon. The town prosecutor had been coming around the bar every day for the past couple of weeks and would inevitably stop to have a drink with her. Kitty enjoyed Fenton's intelligent conversations, as well as his quick wit. Unlike most of the other men in Dodge, Marcus was a cultured and refined gentleman. He was a thoughtful man with a handsome face enhanced by a crop of dark brown hair and expressive brown eyes.

As he approached her, Marcus smiled and said, "Afternoon, Kitty. Can I buy you a drink?"

Closing her ledger book, the redhead flashed a broad smile and replied, "Marcus, you most certainly can."

Signaling the bartender, Fenton placed a coin on the counter and then turned to look at her. The woman's natural beauty always had the same stirring affect on him, as did her delightful personality. Asking Sam for two glasses of the saloon's best whisky, he glanced at the redhead and commented, "You're looking lovely, as always Kitty."

It was something she was used to hearing, but her self-conscious reaction surprised her. Clearing her throat, she replied, "Thank you, Marcus." Accepting a glass, she smiled and then took a sip of whisky. So, how is the prosecuting business these days? Have you been busy?"

Raising his brows and chuckling softly, he answered, "When our marshal is out of town, my work slows down." Grinning at her, he added, "Sooner or later, he will return with prisoners to be put on trial." Shrugging his shoulders, he added, "For now, things are pretty quiet here in Dodge.

"Well, that's good news to me." Donning a crooked grin, she tilted her head and stated, "Does this mean that people are behaving themselves lately?"

Laughing out loud, Fenton commented, "I wouldn't go that far, Kitty. There are still a lot of unpleasant folks in these parts." As he took a long swallow of whisky, he took the opportunity to admire her fine-looking face and shapely body. Placing his glass on the counter, he took a moment to bolster his courage and then inquired, "Kitty. Would you be so kind as to join me for supper later on?"

His request took her by surprise and she made a valiant attempt not to let it be known. As his soft brown eyes searched her face for a response, Kitty's mind reeled with a variety of answers. She truly enjoyed the man's company, but she didn't want him getting the wrong impression. Finally, deciding to take the honest route, Kitty replied, "Marcus, I would love to have dinner with you. But you need to know that I'm not looking…"

Gently patting her hand, he interjected, "I appreciate your candor, Kitty and I respect the choices you have made." Finishing his whisky, he smiled at her and said, "I would take great pleasure in sharing a meal with you. I can assure you that I will always honour your preferences."

His unique way of speaking made her smile. Fenton was a well-educated man who was the eldest son of an influential lawyer in New York. He had disclosed to Kitty that his father wasn't pleased that his son had become a prosecutor, which resulted in Marcus' eventual placement in Kansas. Studying his kind face for a moment, she finally submitted, "Alright, Marcus. Why not?"

Matt and Scott were up early the following morning and decided to ride down to the unclaimed land to have a look around. The other two lawmen wouldn't arrive in Elkhart until much later that day, so they would have plenty of time to investigate the area.

It wasn't long before they reached the Kansas border and crossed over to the wasteland. As federal law no longer had jurisdiction, they removed their badges and put them into their saddlebags for safekeeping. Continuing on their way, the grassy plains soon gave way to massive rocky outcrops and badlands, making their search for wagon prints more difficult.

As they progressed deeper into the wilderness, the two men discussed the possible locations the girls could be held captive. Suddenly remembering an abandoned farmhouse, Scott pulled in his reins and halted his horse.

Turning to see what had distracted his friend, Matt called out, "What is it, Scott?"

Without answering, the deputy searched the western landscape in an effort to identity where the building was situated.

Riding over to Scott, the marshal followed his friend's gaze and quietly mused, "That's a whole lot of wasteland out there."

"Yeah," Scott replied. Looking over at his friend, he added, "A few years back, I was down here chasin' some poster boys." Thinking for a moment, he continued, "The Jesse Clayton gang." Noting the recollection on the other man's face, he added, "I followed them down to this ol' farmhouse, maybe ten miles from here." Donning a sly smile, the lawman informed, "That place would be ideal for Malis' operation. It's quite a distance from the road and has a back trail that leads strait to New Mexico."

"Can you remember the location?" Matt asked.

Pointing westward, Scott answered, "'Bout five miles down this road there's a trail on the left that will lead to the farmhouse. There's also a path that takes you up to a small bluff."

Nodding his approval, Matt stated, "Let's go have a look…we'll take the path to the bluff."

As they made their way to the bluff, the lawmen decided to dismount and tether the horses. Grabbing their rifles, they cautiously walking over to the rocky ledge: kneeling down and crawling the final few feet. Carefully peering over the edge, they viewed the farmhouse and spotted two wagons in the yard. Next to the wagons was a huge barn with four men milling about in front of the doors.

In a low voice, Matt stated, "You were sure right about this place, Scott. I bet they're keeping the girls in the barn."

Before the deputy could respond, a man came galloping into the barnyard, yelling, "Where's Rob? I got news 'bout that Dodge lawman." The other men pointed at the farmhouse, so he quickly dismounted and raced over to the cabin.

"Looks like someone's bin followin' you Matt," Scott remarked. "Hope they don't know we're up here."

Pulling out a pair of binoculars from his coat, the marshal surveyed the yard and commented, "Don't think so. That man came in from the west." Continuing to view the compound, Matt focused on the group in front of the barn and spotted the man with the scar on his cheek. Adjusting the lens, he recognized another man and then softly uttered, "Ned Bowen."

"Ned Bowen? Didn't he use to do the Denver to Hays run?" Responding to Matt's affirming nod, he added, "What would he be doin' here?"

Turning the binoculars to view the cabin, Matt replied, "Some of those girls down there are from Colorado." Stopping for a moment to observe the two men stepping outside, he continued, "He's a good driver and knows the area real well." As the men on the porch lit up cigarettes, Matt recognized Connor Simons, but could not identify the other one. Rolling away from the edge of the bluff, Matt pocketed the binoculars and said, "This is a great vantage point, Scott. We can get some good shots off from here." Rubbing the stubble on his cheek for a moment, he stated, "You ride back to Elkhart to meet up with Doug and Ray. I'm gonna stay here and keep an eye on things."

Nodding at his friend, Scott declared, "We'll head back at day break." As he crept away from the cliff edge, he added, "Don't you go tryin' to be a hero while I'm away. You wouldn't stand a chance, Matt."

Smiling at his friend's concern, the marshal said, "Don't you worry 'bout me, Scott. You just get back here as soon as you can." He looked on as the deputy made his way over to the horses and quickly rode off. Returning to his position at the bluff's edge, Matt pulled out his binoculars and continued to observe the farmyard just fifty feet below.

Well before nightfall, Matt went over to his horse and loosened the sinch on the saddle. Deciding that hobbling his horse was risky, he walked the beast over to a grassy area and tied the reins to a lower branch. As the horse munched on grass, Matt gathered up his saddlebags, canteen and bedroll. Making his way back to the edge of the bluff, he set about making himself comfortable for the long night ahead.

Several hours later, Matt was still awake and thinking about the best way to rescue the girls. He knew that the lawmen would have to act quickly and make sure the girls were out of harms' way. While he was considering the options, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by loud shouts. Grabbing his rifle, he crept over to the edge of the bluff in time to see three men step inside the barn. Stunned by the dreadful sounds of screaming girls and yelling tormentors, Matt frantically thought about how to respond. Remembering Scott's words about acting on his own, the lawman tightly gripped his rifle and grappled with his grim choices. Standing by while innocent people were being abused went against everything Matt had ever stood for. In his mind, he rationalized that any efforts to intervene would surely result in the deaths of numerous girls. He also realized that the outcome of his actions would prevent the capture of the vile men and their repulsive scheme would prevail. As the horrible sounds became more muffled, Matt rolled over onto his back and clutched his rifle to his chest. Overwhelmed by feelings of shame and raging anger, Matt Dillon didn't try to stop the tears from escaping his eyes. He already knew that the sounds of the frantic young girls that night, would haunt him for the rest of his life.


	8. Chapter 8

**Changing Frontiers**

**By blendini **

**Chapter 8**

The night was long and sleep refused to shelter the lawman from his hyperactive sense of guilt and smoldering anger. As soon as it was light enough to see, Matt crawled over to the edge of the bluff and observed the scene below. Searching the yard, he spotted two men sleeping outside the barn doors, with a whisky bottle on either side. Aiming his rifle at one of the men and placing his finger on the trigger, he contemplated killing him right then and there. Loosening his grip on the rifle, he continued his aim and softly uttered, "Your end is near, you bastards."

Suddenly hearing the sounds of horses and a wagon, approaching from the west, he pulled out his binoculars for a closer look. Identifying Jake Pardy, who was sitting next to the driver, he grumbled, "You would be part of this wouldn't you Jake?" The driver, as well as the two men sitting in the back were strangers to Dillon. As they pulled into the farmyard, Matt listened intently to their conversations with the other men.

Someone commented that 'Rob was waiting inside' followed the usual greetings. Another man remarked that they were 'Gonna move out that day' and that they 'Wanted to make Clayton (New Mexico) the following day.'

A couple of hours later, Matt was getting anxious for the arrival of Scott and the others. He could see that the men below were equipping the three wagons with supplies and there was a lot of activity around the barn. Finally hearing approaching horses; he was relieved to see the three lawmen riding towards him. When the men advanced on foot, Matt patiently looked on as they crept towards the edge of the bluff and assessed the situation below.

While Doug and Ray continued to eyeball the farmyard, Matt informed them of the gang's plan to take the girls to New Mexico within the next while.

Looking over at the younger marshal, Doug Everton said, "What's the plan, Matt?"

"We'll take them after they've loaded the girls onto the wagons," Matt answered.

"That would be an ambush," the older marshal stated in disbelief. "You know that the War Department would be against that."

"You got a better plan, Doug?" Dillon growled.

Startled by the callous look on the younger man's face, Everton took in a deep breath and replied, "Yeah, I do. We'll surround them and then call them out."

Shaking his head, Matt coolly stated, "And then they'll just turn those girls into hostages." Glaring at Everton, he continued, "We have to be quick and hit hard. We can't give them time to regroup."

"Matt's right, Doug," Scott interjected. "We'll only get the one chance."

"I'm with Matt on this one, Doug," Ray Westin chimed in.

Doug looked over at Matt for a moment and thought about the younger man's tenure as a US marshal. He couldn't think of a lawman with a better reputation than Dillon and had experienced his strong sense of duty first hand. "You do understand that we'll all lose our badges if we fail," he quietly stated.

"That's not gonna matter to those girls, or their families, Doug." Looking over at Ray, Matt said, "You and Doug make your way down to the wagons. When they've finished loading up the girls, Scott and I will pick off the drivers first and then start on the other men. However you have to do it, get those wagons outta harms' way." Glancing over at Doug, he added, "We won't be able to take out all the men, so some of them will probably escape to the house. You two find some good cover and then Scott and I will come down and join you."

As he listened to his friend lay out the plan, Scott could hear the edge to his voice. The sheer determination on his face indicated that Matt would go to any length to save the girls. The deputy knew that once the shooting started, it would not end until every one of Malis' gang was captured or dead. And God help them if even one of the girls got hurt during the skirmish. He also considered that he and his friends could be dead when it ended, as well.

As Ray and Doug cautiously made their way down to the farmyard, Matt looked over at Scott and searched his face. "You ready for this?"

"Yep," Scott grunted.

Matt knew that the deputy was a very good marksman and that's why he wanted him positioned on the bluff. "Make every shot count, Scott. There won't be any time for second chances." Offering a reassuring nod, the marshal grabbed his rifle and crawled over to the edge of the bluff. Scott followed him and within seconds the two lawmen were ready and waiting for the ensuing battle.

Twenty minutes went by before the men started guiding the girls to the three wagons. Puzzled by the way the girls were being so carefully led; Matt grumbled, "They must have drugged them." Two men climbed onto two of the wagons and waited, while another man appointed a rifleman for each driver. When the last driver walked over to the third wagon, Matt whispered, "Easy Scott. Wait 'til he takes up the reins. Returning to his focus on the wagon, he coolly added, "You start with the wagon on the right."

Within seconds, the third driver climbed up onto his wagon and waited for his partner to sit down on the bench beside him. As he leaned over to pick up the reins, the two lawmen on the bluff opened fire.

Down below, chaos struck as gunshots echoed throughout the farmyard, while drivers and their partners were picked off two at a time. After dropping the men on the wagons, Matt and Scott targeted the others, who were desperately trying to dismount and find cover. Stopping for a moment to see that the other lawmen were taking care of the wagons, Dillon quickly returned to his primary task.

Just as expected, the surviving gang members made a mad dash to the farmhouse. Two of the men didn't make it to the steps, while four others managed to crash through the front door and slam it shut. Matt shouted, "Let's go, Scott!" and then he started to make his way down to the farm.

Occasionally taking cover as bullets blasted by, Scott and Matt scrambled down the buff as quick as they could. Finally racing over to a trench that Deputy Westin had found for shelter, they both leapt into the ditch. Catching his breath, Matt checked that the wagons were a good distance away, and then looked around for Marshal Everton. Spotting the lawman making his way to the back of the house, he turned to Scott and said, "Doug's securing the back entrance. See if you can get to the side of the porch." Looking over at the other deputy, he instructed, "Ray, see if there's any kerosene in that barn. Look for something to make a torch." As the deputy headed for the barn, Matt quickly loaded his rifle and took a few shots at the house.

Crouching in the ditch, Matt cringed as a barrage of bullets blazed by, throwing bits of dirt and sod all around him. Waiting for a lull in the gunfire, the lawman took aim and fired five shots into a window by the front door. Keeping his head low, he looked towards the barn and was relieved to see Ray making his way back. In an effort to provide a distraction for the oncoming deputy, Matt plugged the house with the remainder of his bullets. Swiftly reloading the rifle, he continued to fill the door and windows of the house with bullets.

Jumping into the ditch, Ray gasped for air and then handed over a kerosene soaked torch he had fashioned in the barn. "That should do the job, Matt," he huffed.

Smiling at the deputy, Matt said, "Good man, Ray." Peering over the trench, he signaled to Scott to give him cover and then carefully made his way to the opposite side of the cabin. With both Ray and Scott peppering the house with bullets, Dillon easily evaded the few shots coming his way.

Gasping for air, he leaned heavily against the side of the house and then pulled out a wooden match from his shirt pocket. Striking the match on the rock foundation, he ignited the torch and then crept along the clapboard siding until he reached the back of the house. Alerting Marshal Everton, Dillon crept over to the back steps and placed the flaming torch beneath them. Overhearing the door opening, he pulled out his pistol, but Everton got a shot off before Matt could take aim. As the injured man fell back inside the cabin, both lawmen looked on as the stairs burst into flames. Waiting until the entire rear of the house was engulfed in flames, Matt and Everton carefully inched their way back to the front.

When they reached the porch, they could hear coughing and loud shouts from inside the house. The front door swung open and two men came out firing off their pistols as they raced for the steps. There were so many shots fired that Matt couldn't tell who's bullets hit the pair as they tumbled down the stairs. Keeping his weapon trained on the door, Dillon hollered, "You boys better come out now. Throw down your guns and come out with your hands up."

It wasn't long before three cowboys stumbled outside, with their arms raised. As they coughed and sputtered, Doug and Ray started removing all the weapons from the porch, while Matt kept his gun trained on the prisoners. Handcuffing the outlaws, the lawmen began pushing them away from the house. Noticing that there was still some life in one of the man lying by the steps, Dillon walked over and knelt down beside him. The dying man reached up and grabbed Matt's shirt and stated, "I told those idiots not to go near Dodge." With his head falling to the ground, the man let off a soft gasp and then his body went limp. Pushing the lifeless hand away from his shirtsleeve, the marshal reached over and pulled out a wallet from the dead man's coat pocket. Hearing some of the structure of the house collapsing, Matt hurried away from the porch and watched as the flames swallowed up the entire cabin. Opening the billfold, he flipped through it until he found some identification. Sneering as he read the name (Rob Malis), pocketed the wallet and then turned to look at the other lawmen.

A sinking feeling overcame him when he didn't see Scott with the other men. "Doug…where's Scott?" he hollered.

Doug and Ray both raised their shoulders in confusion. "Last I saw him he was over by the porch there," Doug answered back.

Abruptly rushing over to where Scott was last seen, he spotted his friend struggling to get way from the flames. Running over and grabbing him by the arm, Matt hauled the deputy away from the fire and then leaned him up against an old stump. Noticing some blood oozing from his upper arm, Dillon ripped away the shirtsleeve and looked at a bullet wound. Quickly using the torn sleeve as a tourniquet, he wrapped it tightly above the wound.

"How bad, Matt?" the deputy muttered.

"Went right through," the marshal answered. Pulling his friend up to a standing position, he commented, "We just gotta make sure it doesn't' t get infected."

While Ray and Doug checked on the girls, Matt went to find the horses that they had left on the bluff. When he returned, Ray and Doug had removed all the gear from the Malis gang horses and set them free. All three lawmen set about removing the bodies away from the wagons and burying the dead in a single grave.

Quickly organizing the girls to ride in two of the wagons, they secured the prisoners in a third wagon, along with the lawmen's saddles and gear. Unable to face the girls, Matt volunteered to man the prisoners' wagon, while Ray and Doug drove the other two. Scott decided he was well enough to ride alongside Dillon. Although most of the girls were from Colorado and Northwestern Kansas, the men decided to take the wagons to Dodge. It was the nearest town that was large enough to care for the girls and a railway to transport them home.

Heading away from the farmyard, Matt maintained a good distance behind the other wagons. He didn't want the girls having to look at the prisoners or listen to any of their nasty comments. Although he felt incredibly tired, Dillon was satisfied with the end results of the day. He had three men that would stand trial for their part in the horrific crime, and best of all; not one of the fifteen girls was harmed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Changing Frontiers**

**by blendini**

**Chapter 9**

By nightfall, the caravan had made camp a few miles northeast of Elkhart. Matt and Scott secured the prisoners and then went about gathering wood for a fire. At the other camp, Ray and Doug set about creating a campsite that was comfortable for the girls.

A few hours later, Matt sat pensively staring at the fire, while Scott sipped on a bottle of Malis gang had stocked the wagons with plenty of food and water, which alleviated the need to hunt or find water. Searching his friend's solemn face, Scott pushed the bottle of whisky at him and said, "Want some of this?" The consumption of liquor had reduced the pain in the deputy's arm, which had improved his mood mightily.

With a crooked smile, Matt accepted the bottle and took a couple of sips. Leaning back against a log, he commented, "We need to put together a list of the girls and where they come from. I'm going to head into Elkhart at first light and send a telegram to the War Department. Maybe they can contact the families". Taking another sip of whisky, he continued, "Go over and ask Doug to put that list together, will ya?" Clambering to his feet, he handed the bottle to Scott and stated, "Find out if one of the girl's can handle driving Ray's wagon. I'm gonna go talk to the prisoners."

Approaching the three men, he walked over to the campfire and put a couple of logs on it. Looking over at a sour looking man with a large gash on his cheek, Dillon said, "What's your name, mister?"

"Dan…Dan Bourdon," the man replied.

Glaring at him for a moment, Dillon stated, "Oh yeah. I buried your friend Willie at Rustler's Bend." As a surprised look crossed the man's pock marked face, Matt snarled, "I know all about what you did to that little girl near Dodge. Adopting a menacing smile he continued, "And what you did to that other girl's Pa…I think you'll be swinging pretty high for that." Turning to the younger man sitting next to Bourdon, the lawmen growled, "Who are you?"

In a shaky voice, the young man answered, "Cc…Colin…Wilson."

Not recognizing the name, Matt's eyes shifted and set on Jake Pardy. "Still using women to make your money, huh Jake?"

Pulling his knees up and leaning against a log, Pardy nonchalantly replied, "You got nothin' on me, Dillon. I was just visitin' those men?"

Abruptly stepping over to the man, Matt grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him onto his feet. "You were the brains behind this operation Pardy," he snarled. "It won't take long to track your whereabouts over the past few months." Throwing Pardy to the ground, he added, "I'm pretty sure there will be enough evidence to tie you to all this." Leaning over and hoisting up Colin Wilson, Matt quipped, "Besides, I'll bet Colin here is interested in keeping his neck out of a noose." Hauling the young man away from the campfire, Dillon uttered, "I'll bet the prosecutor will agree to a lesser sentence if you tell us about Jake's involvement." Sitting Colin down nearby where he and Scott were sitting earlier, Matt smiled when he overheard Pardy's cursing words. "Don't worry, son. There's no way ol' Jake can hurt you as bad as I can," he whispered.

The next morning, Matt awoke early and saddled up his horse. Before leaving, he told Scott to keep Colin Wilson away from the other prisoners and then collected the list of the girl's names from Doug. One of the girls' volunteered to man Ray's wagon, so that the deputy could drive the prisoner's wagon. Dillon arranged to meet up with the caravan on their way to Hugoton.

An hour later, Matt rode into Elkhart and quickly made his way over to the telegraph offices. The first message he sent off was to the War Department, updating them on the investigation and listing the names of all the girls and prisoners. The second notice went to Doc, asking him to prepare for the arrival of the caravan in four days. When he left the telegraph office, he went over to the general store and bought some medical supplies for Scott. He also bought some hairbrushes, towels, soap, shampoo and anything else he could think of that the girls would like. Pulling out Rob Malis' wallet, he paid the bill and then waited for the supplies to be bundled up in a large sack.

He caught up to the caravan by mid afternoon and relieved Ray from driving the prisoner's wagon. Climbing up onto the bench, he winked at Scott and then grinned at a nervous Colin Wilson. "Sure hope you've been behaving yourself while I was gone, son," he chirped. Before Ray started to head over to the other wagons, Matt suggested they camp along a creek just a few miles from Hugoton.

Just before nightfall, they located a good spot to set up the two camps. As Matt finished securing the prisoners, an exhausted Scott walked over and dropped onto a log beside the campfire. Pulling the handcuffed Colin over to a tree nearby Scott, he used a rope to lash him to the tree.

Noticing his friend's pale complexion, Matt fished through the sack he'd brought from Elkhart and found the medical supplies and a towel. Grabbing a pot from the fire, the marshal poured the warm water into a shallow pan and returned to where Scott was sitting. Stripping the bloodied bandages away from the injured arm, Matt dabbed the towel in the warm water and gently cleaned the bullet wound. As he bound the arm with clean bandaging, Matt quietly stated, "It's looking a little infected, Scott." Placing a sling around his friend's shoulder, he gently slipped the arm through the protective sheath. Patting his friend on the shoulder, Matt said, "I'll clean it up again in the morning, Scott. For now, I think you should get some rest."

With an appreciative smile, Scott chirped, "Get me that bottle of whisky and I'll be resting soon for sure."

Looking up to see Marshal Everton walking towards him, Dillon stood up and said, "I've got some supplies for you to take to the girls, Doug."

"The girls are wondering why you never come by their camp, Matt." Raising an eyebrow and offering a wry smile, Doug continued, "They think the big US Marshal Dillon must be afraid of them or something."

Chuckling softly, Matt protested, "Alright…alright. I'll take the supplies over to them." Nodding at the marshal, Matt inquired, "Who's the girl that volunteered to drive the wagon today?"

Thinking for a moment, Doug replied, "That was Lindsey. Lindsey Collins."

With an insightful smile, Matt collected the bag of personal items and stated, "Can you stay here 'till I get back, Doug?"

"Sure," the older man answered. "You take your time, Matt."

Making his way over to the other camp, Matt spotted Ray and inquired about the girl named Lindsey. When Ray pointed her out amongst a group of other girls, Matt walked over and introduced himself. As a few of the girls started giggling, he smiled at the group and handed the sack of supplies to Lindsey. "I thought you girls could use some of these things," he stated with a hint of uncertainty.

Pushing her hand out to him, "I'm real pleased to meet you, Marshal Dillon." As she shook his firm hand, she continued, "Ray has been telling us all about how you found us. And how you planned how to save us from those horrible men."

Ignoring her comment, Matt stated, "I'd say you've got some sand, Lindsey. Volunteering to man that wagon and all."

"My Pa told me all about you, Marshal Dillon. He said that you're the reason Dodge is a decent place to live," the girl informed in an animated voice.

Before she could continue, Matt looked around at the group of girls and said, "Don't you young ladies want to see what's in that sack?"

The delighted titters from the girls as they pulled out the surprises in the bag made the lawman laugh. Placing his thumbs behind his gun belt, a broad grin swept across his face as the excitement enveloped him.

He didn't even mind it when two of the girls pulled him down to a log and sat on either side him. Nor did he notice when a younger girl hugged his arm and pressed her cheek against him. The joyful shrieks and cheerful laughter continued to erupt each time a girl pulled an item out of the bag. One girl found a hairbrush and then rushed over to Dillon and pulled his hat off. Gently stroking his hair with the brush, she chortled, "You have beautiful curls, Marshal Dillon."

After a while, the girlish attention became too much for the big lawman, so he stood up and uttered, "Alright girls. It's getting to be time to get some supper ready." Looking around at the disappointed faces, he explained, "It's gonna be dark soon. You don't wanna be making supper in the dark do you?"

Stepping towards him, Lindsey asked, "Will you have supper with us, Marshal Dillon?"

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Matt replied, "Sure, Lindsey, that would be fine." Urging her away from the other girls, he stated, "When I was tracking those men, I came upon your family's farm."

Her large, brown eyes began to well up with tears as she recalled the incident at her family's breakfast table. Angrily swiping the tears away, she said, "That ugly man killed my Pa right in front of me. And then he…killed Ma." Unable to contain her grief, the girl began sobbing uncontrollably.

Pulling her into his chest, the lawman patted her back and then stated, "Your Ma's okay, Lindsey. She's waiting for you in Dodge." Cupping her young face in his large, rough hands, he softly uttered, "You'll be with her in just a few days." As her face began to brighten, Matt rested his arm on her shoulders and guided her back the other girls. "Let's see if any of these girls are good at cooking," he whispered.

On the following day, the September sun was warmer than the previous days, which made travel uncomfortable. The lawmen could see that the girls were becoming fatigued: especially the girls that had been kidnapped much earlier on. At Matt's suggestion, they made a small detour towards the Cimarron River and found the only sheltered campsite within miles of prairie. Arranging the wagons in the usual two camps, the lawmen took the prisoners downstream in an effort to give the girls privacy.

As the men solemnly washed themselves and laundered some of their clothing, shrill laughter began to fill the silent void. The sounds of youthful play and exuberant joy put a smile on Matt's face. The detour may have added another half day to their journey, but he figured the uplifting results were well worth the extra travel. Quickly changing into a clean set of clothes, Matt herded the prisoners back to camp and then tied them to a wagon wheel. Ordering a handcuffed Colin to sit beside a tree located some twenty-five feet away from the other men, he growled, "Stay here. If you move, I'll hogtie you."

Finding his shaving equipment in his saddlebags, he shaved his face and then set about getting a fire going.

The next day, the caravan past threw Sublette and continued for several more hours. Although it was a longer ride, they kept to the main road in order to avoid the fencing that Matt had encountered the week before. The stop alongside the Cimarron had invigorated the girls and he could here excited chatter and giggles along the way. Although he could not forgive himself for his inaction when they need him most, Dillon avowed that he would do whatever was required to ensure their safe passage. As memories of the horrible night on the cliff above the farmhouse began to take form, the lawman turned his head and hollered at the prisoners, "Quiet back there!" Noticing that Colin was getting restless from sitting in between the two brawny lawmen, Matt growled, "Stop fidgeting."

As the caravan continued to roll across the expansive prairie, the marshal's mood shifted as he listened to the girlish antics in the wagons ahead. Suddenly noticing the first wagon had stopped, he commented, "What's going on up there? Can you see anything, Scott?"

As Matt brought the horses to a standstill, Scott climbed up on the bench to see why the caravan had stopped. With a soft groan, he said, "Indians. 'Bout twenty of them." As he sat back down, he took the reins from Dillon and watched as the marshal climbed off the wagon.

"Stay here and guard the prisoners," he ordered and then walked to the back of the wagon. Grabbing his saddle, he quickly placed it on the back of his horse and then tightened up the cynch. Reaching over to untie the reins from the wagon, he quickly mounted up. Galloping over to the first wagon, he asked the girls to load a box of supplies; making sure to include lots of coffee, sugar and tins of beans. When the box was full, two of the girls struggled to lift it until the marshal reached over and took it from them. Grabbing some blankets, he placed the box on his lap and then trotted over to where the Indians had blocked the road.

Relieved to see that the Indians were Kiowa and not the more fearsome Comanche, Dillon offered the open palmed sign of peace. In the native language, he said, "We come in peace. We bear gifts for your chief. May I offer these gifts?"

Receiving an affirming nod, Matt dismounted and placed the blankets and box of supplies on the ground and then stepped back. He could hear the frightened murmurs coming from the wagons behind him and was thankful that the Indians showed little interest.

After a young buck rifled through the box, their leader waved his arm and stated, "These are not the gifts worthy of our great chief." Eying the white man's massive buckskin gelding, he pointed at the horse and remarked, "That is a fine horse you have."

Dillon's shoulders sagged as he let off a breath of air. He hadn't anticipated having to give up his horse. He'd owned the buckskin for eight years and trained him well. Truth be known, he'd appreciated the horse's calm demeanor, as well as the many hours spent alone with him tracking outlaws across the plains. Slowly walking over to the buckskin, Matt unbuckled the cynch and then pulled the saddle off the horse's back. As he removed the bridle, he softly uttered, "So long boy," and then slung the saddle over his shoulder. Nodding at the Indian leader, he turned and slowly made his way back to the wagons.

As the marshal walked away, a man rode over to the buckskin and looped a rope around his neck. Putting up some resistance for a moment, the horse soon succumbed to the pulling rope and then trotted along after the departing Indians.

There was muted silence as the marshal walked by the wagons. The sadness reflected in his face exemplified the sacrifice he had made to keep his precious cargo safe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Changing Frontiers**

**by blendini**

**Chapter 10**

Sitting at a corner table in the saloon, Kitty figured she must have been playing her five-thousandths game of solitaire since she arrived in Dodge City. Although, this particular game was going badly, as she could hardly keep her mind on it. Several days had gone by since the arrival of Matt's telegram that stated that he'd almost reached his destination. She was certain that he would have sent another message if he could, which made her even more concerned.

"Queen of diamonds on the king of clubs," Doctor Adams informed. Sitting in the seat next to her, he tapped on the queen and chirped, "You used to be much better at this game."

Raising a brow, the redhead obediently placed the queen on the king and then stated, "I used to be much better at living in Dodge, too."

With a wry smile, the doctor commented, "Oh, come now Kitty. Soon there will be a new sheriff and that will likely bring all kinds of entertainment."

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, "You mean all kinds of slack laws for sordid men."

Raising his mug and taking a sip of beer, Doc chortled, "I do believe you are becoming cynical, my dear." Swiping his moustache, he added, "Haven't you heard that Clark Ebson has promised to work with the Businessmen's Association? He claims that they will be tightening some of the bylaws that Matt Dillon has let slide?"

Slamming her cards down on the table, Kitty yelped, "Don't talk to me about Ebson. He's a pig! If people vote for him, they're fools."

Startled by his friend's sudden outburst, Doc patted her hand and quietly stated, "I'm worried about him too, Kitty. But you know what the wasteland is like down there. I doubt he's anywhere near a telegraph station."

Feeling a little embarrassed, the redhead said, "I'm sorry Doc. I just wish this whole thing would be over and done with." Gathering up her cards, she whined, "I just wish I had a better idea of what's going on down there."

Briefly thinking she should be careful of what she wished for, the doctor remarked, "You know Matt. He's pretty good at taking care of himself."

Letting off a sigh, she agreed, "Yeah, I know." Deciding to change the topic, she inquired, "How are those two girls doing, Doc?"

His face lit up and he answered, "Good. Angie is now conversing with her mother and Celia left with her family yesterday morning."

With an approving smile, Kitty inquired, "What about that woman that Matt brought back? The one that was beaten."

"Rebecca Collins," he confirmed. "She is staying over at the Dodge House." Shaking his head, he continued, "It can't be easy waiting for news of her daughter." Taking another swallow of beer, he commented, "She has great faith in Matt, though. She's sure he'll bring her back."

Arching her brows, Kitty uttered, "I sure hope she's right, Doc."

Watching the redhead as she glanced around the saloon, he asked, "You expecting someone?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Kitty stated, "Usually Marcus comes around about this time."

Leaning back in his chair, he said, "Ah, yes…I've noticed that you two have become quite chummy lately."

Frowning slightly, the redhead informed, "We're just friends, Doc. We really enjoy each other's company is all."

The doctor was ambivalent when it came to her relationship with Matt Dillon. Although he was thrilled at the joy it brought, he was concerned about the effect Matt's job would have on Kitty. 'But then again,' he thought, 'a prosecutor would likely have the same enemies as a lawman.' Deciding that the lawyer couldn't possibly protect her as well as the marshal, he looked up to see Kitty staring at him. "Oh, friends…of course. A woman should always have friends," he chirped.

Puzzled by his reaction, Kitty explained, "Marcus is a lovely man, Doc. He's funny, smart…and an awful lot of fun."

Doc briefly wondered how long it had been since the somber marshal had been described in those words. Clambering to his feet, he finished his beer, and stated, "Just be careful with that friendship Kitty. Marcus might have a different idea." Winking at her, the doctor chirped, "It wouldn't be the first time".

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

After loosing his horse, Matt became more withdrawn and distant in his approach. His sleep had been restless since his last night in Dodge and his tolerance was low. He considered the current job the worst he'd ever experienced and was disgusted in having to bring the despicable prisoners back to Dodge. If it weren't for the girls, he thought he'd likely pack it in and head off to Colorado to do some hunting and fishing.

Scott noticed the change in his friends' conduct immediately and understood his aloofness as a need for space. Although his injury continued to give him grief, the deputy tried to help out with the prisoners as best he could. Always having to keep Wilson away from the other two prisoners made it a difficult task. The younger man had not uttered a word regarding Jake Pardy's involvement with the gang, but Dillon's deliberate gruffness and pointed words seemed to be wearing him down. As Wilson's statement would probably be primary in any court dealings with Pardy, it was imperative to get him to turn evidence as soon as possible.

As they continued towards Dodge, the girls' temporary enthusiasm began to wane and was soon replaced with silent contemplation. The only thing that had any affect on the dull atmosphere was the announcement that they would be getting to Dodge by late afternoon the following day.

After a long day of travel, they finally rolled into their last campsite at dusk and quickly performed the same tasks they'd done the previous nights. After taking care of the prisoners, Matt sat down next to Wilson and said, "Last night out here, Colin. It might be a good time to start talking."

Shifting his weight to try to get comfortable, the young man kept his eyes averted and said, "What kinda deal would I get?"

"Well, I suppose it would depend on what you have to say," Dillon conjectured. "The prosecutor will be real interested in getting some evidence against Pardy." Shrugging his shoulders, he added, "'Course that all depends what your involvement has been."

"Look Marshal," he began. "All I did was keep the communication going." Noting the doubtful look on Dillon's face, he explained, "They needed someone to monitor telegrams and bring messages to them." Resting his head against the tree he was bound to, he closed his eyes and said, "I never hurt none of them girls."

Grimacing slightly, Dillon commented, "Well, that may be hard for you to prove, Son." He knew that Wilson had ridden to the farm the day before the mêlée to give Malis some news regarding the lawman. What Matt didn't know was whether the young man had been one of the three that had terrorized the girls in the barn later that evening. "It will be up to the prosecutor. He's the one that will have to evaluate all the evidence."

"Marshal. You can go ask any of them girls," Wilson implored, "I never laid no finger on any of them."

Climbing to his feet, Matt stated, "That may be the case," he mused. As he began to walk away, he muttered, "Hope it works out for you, Boy." Ignoring the young man's sudden rash of flustered comments; Dillon smiled slightly and began making his way over to the other camp.

Fifteen pairs of eyes observed the lawman as he approached the girl's campsite. During the past five days, he had become their guardian and liberator: the only man they truly felt safe around. When he walked towards the fire, the light revealed a burdened man that had much on his mind. With smiling faces, the girls greeted him in a tuneful chorus, "Good evening Marshal Dillon."

Climbing to her feet Lindsay stated, "Welcome to our camp, Marshal Dillon."

"Thanks, Lindsey," he replied. Grinning at the other girls, he stated, "'Evening young ladies." Turning back to Lindsey, he nibbled on his lower lip for a moment and then said, "Uhm…Lindsey. I was wondering if we could talk."

With an eager grin, the girl chirped, "Of course, Marshal Dillon."

Guiding her away from the other girls, he took her over to log and urged her to sit down. He could see the anticipation in her eyes as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Continuing to search her face, he wondered if she could endure his questioning and decided that he would follow her lead. "Lindsey, I was wondering if you've overheard the other girls talking about the prisoners?"

With a perturbed look, the girl clasped her hands together on her lap and studied them for a moment. Letting off a soft sigh, she replied, "What is it you need to know, Marshal Dillon?"

He was surprised by her answer and wondered if her bravado was an effort to impress, or, perhaps disguise her inner turmoil. Taking in a deep breath, he smiled at her and softly uttered, "Listen Lindsey. You just say what feels right to you, okay?"

Leaning forward, she placed an elbow on her knee and cupped her chin in her hand. After a long pause, she began nervously wringing her hands and then quietly stated, "Mostly they talk about the ugly one. The one with that horrible scar."

Watching her closely, Matt asked, "What about the younger fella? Have you ever heard anyone mention him?"

Continuing to knead her hands, she replied, "Not really. Nobody seems to know him." Raising her hand to her face, the young girl began chewing on her thumbnail. After a long pause, she quietly added, "They just talk about the ugly one and those two others that came from Colorado."

The girl's obvious distress was disconcerting to Matt, so he sat next to her and tried to reassure her by gently rubbing her back. "I can tell you this, Lindsey. Two of those men are dead already…and the other will be hung soon enough." Noticing her jaw tightening, he added, "I know that won't change what they did to you and the others; nothing can do that." He thought she was about to say something, but her silent tears were the only reply. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her into his side and softly uttered, "You will outlive this, Lindsey. There will come a time when it doesn't have a hold on you anymore. You can be sure of that."

Pressing her face into his side, the young girl finally allowed her tears to fall freely. Her body was still vibrating from the long days of quiet desperation, but his embrace felt warm and protective. Wrapping her arms around his waste, she squeezed him with all her might and then let out a weepy chuckle when she heard him gasp. Before long, her natural reserve felt betrayed by the intimate moment and she quickly straightened her back. Swiping the drying tears away from her face, she looked up at him and said, "I…I'm sorry, Marshal…I…I…don't know what happened to me."

With a kind smile, he reached over and brushed a tuft of auburn hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "No reason to apologize, Lindsey," he replied and then thought, 'Certainly not to me, anyways.'

As he climbed to his feet, she tugged on his arm and quietly stated, "You're always thinking, aren't you Marshal Dillon?"

Glancing at the other girls, he noticed that they appeared to be huddled together, which made him wonder how many of them had also been abused. Letting off a deep sigh, he presented a sad smile and stated, "I s'pose so, Lindsey."

Suddenly, the sound of a single gunshot shattered the stillness of the night. Pulling out his gun, he hollered, "You girls stay here!" and then raced over to the other campsite.


	11. Chapter 11

**Changing Frontiers**

by blendni

**Chapter 11**

As he reached the campsite, Matt pulled out his gun from his holster and warily crept towards the wagon. There was only a half moon that night, so it was difficult to see anything unusual, or out of the ordinary. As he neared the wagon, he passed a panic stricken Colin Wilson, who was still tied to the same tree. He could hear the other lawmen approaching and called out to them to let them know his position. Carefully inching closer to the wagon, the marshal made his way to the back and cautiously peered around the other side. He could see the shadowy outline of two bodies; one lay motionless, the other appeared to be writhing on the ground.

Pulling back the hammer on his gun, he called out, "Scott. Can you hear me, Scott?"

"Yeah, I'm over here," Scott responded in a rasping voice. "I think Pardy's dead."

Noting another figure tied to the front wheel of the wagon, Matt assumed it must be Bourdon. Making his way over to Scott, the marshal holstered his gun and then helped his friend climb to his feet. "What happened here, Scott?" he asked.

Still leaning on his friend for support, the deputy replied, "I was just taking the dinner plates away and he jumped me. He just started beating on me and trying to get my gun." Hearing footsteps, he looked up to see Ray and Doug approaching. Grasping his inured shoulder, he continued, "We started fighting for the gun and it just went off, Matt."

While Doug went over to check on Pardy, Matt and Ray assisted Scott back to the campfire. As they helped him sit down on a log, Matt stated, "You got any injuries, Scott?"

"I'm alright," the deputy replied. "He clipped me pretty good on my jaw, but it's not broken."

Noticing that his friend was still favouring his arm, Matt stated, "Looks like your arm is worse for wear. We'll have to wait until daylight to have a good look at it."

"It's not too bad, Matt. Could have been a lot worse," Scott commented.

With a sympathetic nod, Matt turned to the other deputy and said, "Why don't you go back to the girls, Ray? Doug and I will bury Pardy." Patting Scott on the shoulder, he said, "I'll see to the prisoners, you just rest up."

The following morning, Matt was up by dawn and tending to the campfire. Pouring off a mug of hot coffee, he rested back on a log and tried to think about the brighter aspects of returning to Dodge. It didn't take long before the pleasant images of Kitty were swept aside by the grim thoughts of the past few days. Sipping on his coffee, Matt could feel the familiar stirring of the rage that existed in a dark corner deep within. The impulse to beat the daylights out of Dan Bourdon was overwhelming and it took a certain discipline to refrain from doing so. Climbing to his feet, he tossed the dregs of his coffee to the ground and then looked over at Bourdon, who was sleeping by the wagon. Dillon recognized the crucial outcome was that Bourdon would never get a chance to do his terrorizing again. He realized that the immediacy of the prisoner's hanging would have a greater impact on the girls. With a sly grin, he confirmed that a speedy trial would go a long way to help the victims put the memories behind.

When Scott awakened, he noticed that Matt had already made breakfast and was starting to pack up the wagon. Making his way over to the campfire, the deputy helped himself to the leftover breakfast in the frying pan. As he finished the last mouthful of food, he placed the pan on the ground and then went over to help the marshal. Glancing over at Bourdon, he looked around for the younger prisoner and was puzzled when he couldn't see him anywhere. Stepping up to Matt's side, he inquired, "Where's Wilson?"

Strapping down some boxes in the wagon, the marshal said, "Looks like he got away on us during the night."

With an incredulous look, Scott harped, "What? How the hell could he do that?"

Stopping only to shrug his shoulders, Dillon mumbled, "Don't know" and then went back to tightening the straps on the boxes.

Grabbing the marshal's arm, Scott snarled, "What do you mean you don't know. You were the last one to check on him."

Ignoring the hand on his arm, the marshal stooped over to pick up his saddle and then hurled it onto the back of the wagon. Pushing it towards the front, he quietly stated, "I guess I forgot to put the cuffs back on him. He must have managed to untie the ropes."

Glaring at his friend, Scott shook his head in disbelief and spat, "There's no way you would have forgotten that, Matt."

Locking eyes with the deputy, Dillon coolly stated, "Unless you want to be calling me a liar, I would suggest you start packing up." With a thin smile, he added, "Besides, that kid had little to do with any of this."

"That's not for you to determine, Matt," Scott interjected.

Letting off a deep sigh, Dillon replied, "Yeah. I know that, Scott." As he began to walk away, he stopped and said, "I'm going over to talk to Doug and Ray. I'll tell them about Wilson. We'll be heading out directly."

Within an hour, the caravan was well along the final leg of the journey to Dodge City. Once again, the prisoner's wagon followed at a distance from the others, with a very quiet pair of lawmen manning the horses. Scott couldn't come up with an explanation as to why Matt would release Wilson and wasn't even sure he had. Unable to remember a time that his friend had ever lied to him, he couldn't think of why that would suddenly change. One thing he knew for sure, is that Dillon was in no mood to discuss the situation any further. Before they pulled away from the final campsite, Matt was very convincing in voicing his point that there would be no further discussion regarding Wilson. As far as the marshal was concerned, the young man had escaped and it would be up to someone else to track him down.

After a few more hours, the sight of Dodge City began to emerge from the endless plains. Although the town was still many miles away, the vision of the distant settlement gave the weary travelers a renewed energy.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Dodge, there was an excited murmur amongst the passengers, although the drivers showed little emotion. They began to notice people milling about and a couple horsemen riding over to them. On their approach, the men on horseback announced that the church had been transformed into a temporary homestead for the girls.

As the convoy rolled down Front Street, many of the residents stood along the boardwalk. Morbid curiosity or genuine goodwill; they were all there to get a glimpse of the passengers in the three wagons.

When he reached the jailhouse, Matt broke away from the others and maneuvered the horses to the hitching post in front. Putting the brake on the wagon, he turned to Scott and said, "I'll lock Bourdon up and then get you over to Doc's."

"That's okay, Matt," Scott replied. "I'll head over there directly. You take care of Bourdon."

Nodding at his friend, Matt climbed down from the wagon and walked around to the back. "Alright, Bourdon. Your hotel room awaits," he growled. As the prisoner awkwardly crawled toward the edge of the wagon, Dillon grabbed him by the arm and unceremoniously dumped him onto the ground. Hauling Bourdon to his feet, the lawman dragged him over to the office and unlocked the door.

"Looks like ya got er done again, Matthew," a familiar voice said. As the tired looking lawman turned to him, Festus added, "You want me to take care of that rig fer ya, Matthew?"

"I'd be obliged Festus," Dillon answered and then pushed his prisoner into the office.

After putting Bourdon in a cell, Matt went into the office and started a fire in the wood stove. Walking over to the filing cabinet, he flipped through some folders until he found the forms he needed to file a report. Returning to his desk, he pulled out a bottle of whisky and a glass and then sat down. Filling the glass, he took a sip of whisky and thought about the last two weeks of his life. He couldn't remember feeling so drained after tracking down and capturing lawbreakers. The two weeks he'd been away from Dodge, seemed more like a month and there was much to do before the case could be closed. Staring at the forms in front of him, he let off a soft groan when the thought of a lengthy trial emerged. For a moment he even considered Doc's argument about taking an extended break from the badge. Letting off an abrupt chuckle, he muttered, "Dreaming about a vacation isn't going to get this paperwork done." Picking up a pen and dabbing it in the inkwell, he read the first line and then began filling out the forms.

Kitty had been standing by the Long Branch doors as the caravan rolled down Front Street. She looked on as Matt stopped at the jailhouse to take care of his prisoner. Even standing at a distance, she could see the marshal's unusually slow gate, as well as the frustrated anger. She was puzzled that there was only one prisoner, but was overjoyed by the number of girls in the first two wagons. As she continued to watch Dillon drag his prisoner into the jailhouse, she also observed Scott Stevens gingerly making his way over to the doctor's office. The realization of the risks the men had taken to save the girls, brought on a sudden feeling of remorse. Deciding that Matt would need some time to take care of the prisoner, she reluctantly headed back to the bar.

Flipping over to the second page of his report, Matt placed the pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He was an honest man and there was no question of changing any of the details in the report. Rubbing his tired eyes, he fetched his glass and emptied the remainder of whisky in his mouth. As he was about to start on the second page of the report, the office door opened and Marcus Fenton stepped inside.

Walking over to the desk, Marcus smiled at the lawman and said, "Good to see your safe return, Marshal." Shaking the lawman's hand, he continued, "I see that you men managed to safely return all the missing girls."

Smiling at the prosecutor, Matt stated, "Yeah, it worked out for the best."

With an approving nod, Marcus sat in a chair across from the desk commented, "Marshal Everton tells me that there was only one prisoner. There must have been quite a struggle out there."

Raking his large hand threw a crop of curls, Dillon answered, "Yeah, they put up quite a fight."

Creasing his brow, he quietly mused, "I'll bet." Straightening in the chair, Fenton added, "I came by to let you know that a trial date has been set for those young fools. You know, the two that robbed the stagecoach outside Garden City?" Receiving an affirmative nod from the marshal, he relayed, "I'll need your report as well as a statement within the next few days, Matt. The trial will be in a couple of weeks."

"No problem, Marcus. I'll have it for you tomorrow sometime," Dillon declared.

Climbing to his feet, the prosecutor smiled at him and said, "Very good, Marshal." Walking over to the door, he abruptly stopped and turned to look at Dillon. "Have you sent off a telegram to the circuit judge about this recent arrest?"

"Uh…no, not yet," the lawman replied.

Shrugging his shoulders, Marcus commented, "Looks like it will be a long trial, probably much publicized as well. I doubt it will take place here in Dodge."

"Maybe," the marshal grunted.

Smiling back at the worn-out looking lawman, Marcus said, "Well, I can see you have work to do, Matt. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Opening the door and stepping outside, he shook his head and then headed down the boardwalk.

Over at the Long Branch, Kitty occupied herself with drying some mugs that had just been washed. Absently rubbing a mug with a dry cloth, she thought about her little outings with Marcus over the past while. Despite the odd twinges of guilt, she told herself that it was light-hearted fun and that neither she nor Marcus had feelings beyond friendship. It wasn't her fault that some of the folks around Dodge had different ideas about the trysts.

She was so deep in thought, she didn't even notice when the marshal entered the saloon and stood across the bar from her. Chuckling softly, Matt chirped**, "****No problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking." [Voltaire]**

Startled by his voice, she sputtered, "Huh…what?" Recognizing his playful smile, she overlooked his comment and said, "How 'bout a beer, Cowboy."

"That'd be real fine, Kitty," he replied. He was puzzled by her nervous behaviour, but put it down to his surprise appearance. Eying her as she drew the beer, he noticed a slight fumble with the mug. Shaking his head, he inquired, "Is something wrong, Red?"

Glancing at the look of concern spreading across his rugged face, she placed the mug of beer in front of him. "We need to talk, Matt," she replied.

Picking up the mug of beer, he took several long swallows and then placed it on the counter. "What about?" he asked.

"In private," she stated. "My office…bring your beer," she announced and then walked away from the bar.

Baffled by her strange conduct, he shrugged his shoulders and then followed her over to the office. Entering the office, he looked over at Kitty, who was standing by the desk and appearing somewhat agitated. Making his way over to her, he placed his hands on her arms and asked, "What is it, Kitty?"

In desperation, she ran a few scenarios around in her mind and then let off an exhaustive sigh. Sitting on the desk, she averted her eyes and said, "Your going to hear it from some of the gossips around here anyways." Still looking downwards, she continued, "I've gone out a few times with Marcus Fenton".

He was surprised by what she had said, but not entirely. He knew that it was a struggle for a vibrant woman like Kitty to live in a cow town like Dodge. He also knew why she persisted on staying there. Raising her chin with his forefinger, he quietly stated, "It's been awful boring around here, hasn't it Kitty?" Leaning over and tenderly kissing her lips, he whispered, "Now I'm here to keep you…uh…stimulated."

"Matt," she pleaded, "you need to understand. There was nothing…"

After another heated kiss, he caught his breath and tenderly slid his finger along her cheek. "Stop, honey," he softly uttered. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"But…but Matt," she persisted.

Embellishing a chagrined frown, "Now Miss Kitty, you heard me. I'm the law around this town, at least for the moment…and I order you to stop that nonsense right away."

With a wholehearted laugh, she chortled, "Looks like you'll be the law for a while longer, Cowboy." Grinning at his questioning response, she relayed, "Seems most folks in Dodge decided they would rather have some federal lawman, so they refused to vote." Encouraged by his still puzzled face, she eagerly continued, "Major Cuthbert had his ranch hands come out to vote for Ebson. Marcus had the elections declared a misconduct or something. He said that only people actually living in Dodge could vote." With a cheeky grin, she chirped, "Marcus thinks the War Department will refuse any future request for a sheriff now. So it looks like Major Cuthbert's plan has failed...again."

"Well, I'll be," he mused.

As he continued to ponder what she had said, Kitty took a moment to evaluate an emerging sense of trepidation. The extreme fatigue was still there, but there was something else, something that was unsettling. Running her fingers along his chest, she quietly inquired, "Are you alright, Cowboy?"

He was about to reply, but hesitated when her loving reflection took hold of him. He wanted to tell her his story of the past few weeks. Tell her of how close to his limit he'd come: both physically and emotionally. Most of all, he wanted her to forgive him for neglecting his duty that horrible night on the bluff above the farmhouse. But he knew he could never tell anyone: especially Kitty, about his dishonourable act. Shaking the memory away, he offered a tired smile and softly uttered, "I just need some rest, Kitty. I'll be fine."

The distress emanating from his pale blue eyes shook her deeply. She had never seen him like this and could only wonder what it took for him to find the girls and bring them home. Gently grasping his hands, she looked at him admiringly and said, "You saved them, Matt. That's all that matters now."

The intensity behind her searching eyes was unsettling, so he straightened his shoulders and announced, "There's a few things I need to do."

It wasn't the time or place for discussion and she knew it. With a warm smile, she stated, "Come by for a nightcap, if you can."

Leaning over and tenderly kissing her on the lips, he said, "I'll do that, Red." Making his way over to the door, he placed his hand on the handle and then turned to look at her for a moment. With a somber smile, he uttered, "I love you, Kitty" and then left the room.

Astonished by his unusual expressiveness, she took in a breath as the door closed behind him. Deciding that she needed to find some answers, she determined that speaking to Scott would be her first stop. After that, she would go to the church and check on the girls. She also wanted to have a word with Marshal Everton and Deputy Westin.


	12. Chapter 12

**Changing Frontiers**

**by blendini**

**Chapter 12**

Due to a particularly rowdy crowd at the Bull's Head Saloon Matt's attention to several disorderly drunks kept him busy. Trying to sleep while the despicable Dan Bourdon snored in his jail cell, made the remainder of the evening even more unpleasant. Finally, when sleep came to him, it was a restless slumber that hardly restored the energy he needed so badly.

The following day was filled with the task of tracking down a young man that had stolen money from the tack shop. The lawman did make time to send off messages to the War Department and the Office of the Circuit Judges. Both notices contained the marshal's recommendation that the remaining prisoner immediately stand trial for the murder of Thomas Collins. He argued that the evidence against Dan Bourdon was overwhelming, which would surely preclude a trial regarding his other unlawful actions. He also requested that Marshal Everton and Deputy Westin escort the Colorado girls to Denver, forthwith. In the meantime, Deputy Stevens decided to head up to Hays, where he was to offer testimony at an upcoming trial.

A couple of days later, the marshal found himself apprehensively staring at the telegrams neatly placed in front of him. Licking his dry lips, the lawman contemplated the telegrams for another moment and then snatched one up from the desk. Tearing away the seal, a slight smile creased his lips as he read the message from the War Department. Placing the notation back on his desk, he picked up the other telegram and began reading. This time, a full grin swept across his face and he coolly uttered, "Perfect."

Climbing to his feet, Matt pocketed the telegrams and then went over to tend to the wood stove. As he loaded the firebox with wood, he considered the ramifications of the messages. He would do whatever he could to prevent the girls from testifying against Bourdon. Whatever that had to be done, he would do it. As he closed the door of the wood stove, he looked up to see Marcus Fenton stomping into the office.

Waving some papers in his hand, the prosecutor barked, "Why, Matt? Why have you recommended this?" Slamming the marshal's report and two telegrams down on the desk, Marcus groused, "Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Calmly filling the coffeepot with water, Matt quietly stated, "There's no need for a long drawn out trial, Marcus." Placing the pot on the stove, he turned to the prosecutor and said, "Bourdon's gonna hang anyway."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Fenton growled, "And what about the other prisoner?" Glancing at the papers on the desk, he sputtered, "Wilson…uh…Colin Wilson…the one that escaped from **you**?"

Matt didn't miss the heavy pronunciation of the prosecutor's last word. Maintaining his composure, Matt shrugged his shoulders and informed, "Wilson was a small player. Doubt he'd even get a year for his involvement."

Narrowing his eyes, Marcus snarled, "So the marshal is now a judge? You are entering some dangerous territory Matt."

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the lawman explained, "It's not that at all, Marcus. Fact is, we only have one prisoner to put on trial and that would be Bourdon. Why would we drag those poor girls through an extended trial? Bourdon can be convicted and sentenced and only one of the girls would be involved."

Glaring at the lawman, Fenton spat, "Due process of the law. Ever heard of that concept, Marshal?" Taking a step closer to Dillon, the prosecutor quipped, "Did you ever consider that some of those girls might like to have their day in court?" Pointing a shakey finger at the lawman's chest he shouted, "Maybe they need to see Bourdon pay for what he did to them!"

Swallowing hard, the marshal took time to consider what Fenton had said. Feeling confident in his actions, Matt said, "Why don't we go over to the church and ask the girls, Markus? Then we'll know for sure."

"Alright…let's do that Marshal," Fenton carped. "And if you're wrong, I will order you to go out and track Colin Wilson down." Turning for the door, he added, "I don't care if it takes up the rest of you life, Dillon."

Following the prosecutor outside, Matt locked up the office and then followed Fenton to the church in silence. Pulling open the massive door of the church, he stepped inside and looked around the large room. Patchwork quilts covered cots that had replaced the pews and each bed had a nightstand with a vase of flowers on top. The girls had been given fresh clothing, nightshirts, slippers and dressing gowns. At the other side of the hall by the wood stove, long tables with benches had been erected to hold water jugs, basins and towels. There were also baskets of food items, bottles of various juices and a variety of dining sets. Smiling at the town's generosity, Matt froze when he heard the now familiar chorus of; "Good evening, Marshal Dillon."

Kitty had been stirring a huge pot of hot chocolate on the wood stove when she noticed the lawman step inside the church. The succinct greeting brought a smile to her face; but the sight of the girls eagerly pulling the big man over to a sitting area made her laugh.

Standing next to her, Doc groused, "What's all the racket over there?" Noticing Matt encircled by a group of little girls, he remarked, "What in tarnation?"

With a blend of admiration and affection, she nodded her head and softly uttered, "He did it, Doc." Turning to her friend, she added, "He did what he always does. He brought them home. They're safe now."

Swiping his moustache, he looked over at the commotion and mused, "He sure did, Kitty."

Annoyed by the lawman's change of focus from the job at hand, Marcus quipped, "Marshal, we have an important task."

Embarrassed by the attention he was receiving, Matt cleared his throat and announced, "Mr. Fenton and I need to talk with you girls." Extricating himself from the throng of girls, he continued, "Let's go to the back and sit at the tables." With a generous smile, he began to walk away and waved his hand for the girls to follow suit.

As he approached the back of the church, Matt ignored the doctor's mocking smile and said, "Looks like that hot chocolate's about to boil over." As Doc and Kitty abruptly began fussing over the big pot on the stove, he hooked his thumbs behind his belt and suppressed a grin.

Stirring the chocolate milk with a ladle, Doc quipped, "I don't know what he's talking about. It's not even that hot."

Rolling her eyes, Kitty went over to Matt and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. Brandishing a chagrined look, she quietly stated, "That was very funny Cowboy."

Pulling off his hat, he donned a jocular smile and teased, "I thought so." Noticing a somber looking prosecutor instructing the girls to sit at the table, Matt turned to the redhead. In a low voice, he stated, "Listen Kitty…Marcus and I have to talk to the girls for a bit. Do you think you could sit with us?" Responding her questioning eyes, he added, "I would like to hear what you have to say about this meeting. And Doc too."

Noting her approval, Matt walked over to the table and dropped down next to Marcus, who was sitting at the head. Glancing at the girls around the table, he waited for Doc and Kitty to sit down and then stated, "You want to start, Marcus?"

Fenton glared at the marshal for a moment. He certainly did not want to give Dillon a chance to influence the girls' decision. He was infuriated that the lawman had created the dilemma in the first place. Noticing a very young girl resting her cheek on Matt's arm only solidified his resolve to get an informed and unbiased decision from the girls.

Raising his hand to get the girl's attention, Marcus announced, "Alright, young ladies. We need to talk to you about the possibilities of an upcoming trial." As a restless and nervous pall invaded the table, the prosecutor raised his voice and stated, "I know this is difficult for you girls. But we have to address this." Waiting for the anxious murmurs to fade, the prosecutor said, "We have a couple of scenarios we need to discuss. Afterwards, I want each one of you to decide what is best." With an affable smile, he continued, "As you know, we only have one arrest. The other prisoner escaped, but we will continue to search for him." Turning to Dillon, he snidely remarked, "And we will capture him, won't we Marshal?"

Adopting a thin smile, the lawman quietly grunted.

"So," the prosecutor began, "You young ladies will have the opportunity to testify against these men. You will have the chance to make sure that they are severely punished for what they did." As several of the girls started talking at once, Marcus raised his voice and stated, "Each of you will get a opportunity to speak. I just want to make sure you a clear about your choices."

While Fenton spoke, Matt fingered his hat that he'd placed on the table in front of him. Finally becoming frustrated by Marcus' wordy explanation, the lawman commented, "At the moment, Dan Bourdon has only been arrested for the murder of Thomas Collins. There is devastating proof of his guilt." Glancing at Marcus' reddening face, he continued, "Unprovoked murder almost always comes with the punishment of death."

As a few of the girls began to chatter anxiously, a quiet but solid voice arose from the table. Lindsey Thompson softly uttered, "I saw him kill my Pa and so did Mama. I wanna see him hung for that." Desperately searching the faces gathered around the table, she continued, "Bourdon will be hung for killing my Pa. That's a sure thing." Turning to Marcus, she asked, "Would he be punished by hanging for what he did to us, Mr. Fenton?"

Her earnest gaze caught the prosecutor by surprise: enough to force him to look away and gather his thoughts. Clearing his throat, Marcus looked at the faces staring back at him and replied, "There are many charges that can be laid against Bourdon. I can't really say what the punishment would be, but I guarantee that the sentence will be severe." Noticing the doubt on some of the girls' faces, he quickly added, "But each of you will get your day in court. You will have the satisfaction seeing that the law enforces justice comparable to the crimes he has committed."

Another girl spoke up and said, "I don't want to be on trial. I just want to go home." As a few other girls began to speak up, the first girl stated, "We all just want to go home, Mr. Fenton."

As several other young voices joined in, Marcus realized that there was a strong group of girls that didn't want any part of a trial. Letting off a deep sigh, he remarked, "I can see that the more vocal girls have already decided on a decision. I would like to hear from you quiet ones, but I suspect this is a difficult venue for you to do so." Raising the palms of his hands to hush the group, Fenton continued, "I will ask that the young ladies talk amongst themselves. For those of you that wish, I will leave behind pens and paper for you to write out your concerns. Climbing to his feet, the prosecutor, smiled at the young faces and said, I will return later this evening to find out how you wish to proceed." With an affable smile, he tipped his hat and then slowly made his way towards the door.

Picking up his hat, Matt stood up and turned to find Lindsey standing next to him. "That was very brave of you, Lindsey," he commented.

Containing a merciless angst building up inside, the girl forced a smile and said, "Marshal. Uhm…if I testify in the murder trial…ah…will they make me talk about what…he…did?"

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Matt quietly stated, "I don't think Mr. Fenton would allow the defence to bring that up. I will check that out for you though, Lindsey." Gently squeezing her shoulder, he continued, "Your mother and I will make sure you are protected from Bourdon…and from his lawyer, if need be."

While Matt talked with Lindsey, Kitty and Doc began ladling the hot chocolate into mugs. Holding up a mug for the doctor to fill, Kitty whispered, "What do you make of all that, Doc?"

Filling the mug, the doctor answered, "I don't know, Kitty. Looks like Matt and Marcus don't agree on how things should proceed." Dipping the ladle into the pot of hot chocolate, he pulled it up and the filled another mug. "You know, I kind of get the impression that Matt has set things up the way they are." Eying the redhead for a moment, he inquired, "Has he explained to you how they only ended up with one prisoner?"

Placing the mugs onto the table, she grabbed two more and held them up to be filled. Shrugging her shoulders, she commented, "I've hardly spent time with him since he got back. We had dinner together yesterday, but then he had to rush off to do something." Offering the other mug, she continued, "Sam and Clark are as tight lipped as Matt. I talked to Scott and he only let on that he shot one of the prisoners by accident." Noticing the marshal walking in her direction, she whispered, "Here he comes, Doc."

Stepping up to the wood stove, the lawman inspected the pot of hot chocolate, and chirped, "I won't be staying for hot cocoa, Doc. I gotta go fetch some dinner for the prisoners."

As the doctor grumbled, Kitty pulled the marshal aside and softly uttered, "How are you holding out, Cowboy." She knew his answer before he spoke a word. Searching his face as he made his predictable reply, she nodded her head and muttered, "Uhm hmm." The extreme fatigue was obvious, as was the worrisome sadness emanating from his eyes. Gently caressing his arm, she whispered, "Any chance you'll be coming by tonight?"

With a beaming grin, he answered, "Festus has finally returned from that fencing job. I'll be asking him about staying at the office tonight."

"Good," Kitty declared. "You look like you could use a good night's sleep," she began. As she resisted a chuckle building in her throat, she chortled, "Among other things."

As he chewed on his lower lip, the sadness in his eyes slipped away. Flipping his hat over and placing it on his head, the lawman chirped, "I wouldn't wanna miss out on that…that's for certain." Tugging on the rim of his hat, he said, "I'll see you later on, Red" and then headed for the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Changing Frontiers**

by blendini

***Sorry for how long it's taken to get this chapter written up. I know it's frustrating when it's taken so long that you barely remember the story anymore. This is the final chapter of this story. Hope you enjoy it. b

**Chapter 13**

After another busy evening, Matt returned to the Long Branch well after closing time. Slowly lumbering up the back stairs, he used his key to open the door and stepped inside. Walking down the hallway until he stopped at her door, he wrapped his knuckles on it and then waited for an answer.

"Come in, Matt," Kitty called out in a muffled voice.

Walking into the room, he closed the door and locked it. Taking off his coat, he slung it over the back of a chair and set his hat on the protruding top rail. Dropping down to the chair, he pulled off his boots and pushed his woolen socks inside them. Climbing to his feet, he went over to the fireplace and placed a couple of logs on the embers. Turning to see a bottle of brandy and two glasses on the coffee table, Matt filled one and immediately emptied the contents in his mouth.

"There's some brandy on the table by the fire, Matt," Kitty hollered out from the other room.

With a slight smile, the lawman filled his glass again and then made his way across the room to the big brass bed. Placing the glass on a bedside table, he unbuckled his gun belt and looped it over the headboard. Removing his shirt and undershirt, he tossed them onto a nearby chair. Pulling off his pants and underwear at the same time, he put them on top of his other clothes and then drew back the bedcovers. Retrieving his brandy, he emptied the glass in his mouth and then climbed into the bed.

Folding his hands behind his head, the lawman leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. He could hear the faint sounds of Kitty's movement in the other room and chuckled when she started humming 'The Yellow Rose of Texas.' Stretching out his legs, Matt decided that it had been far too long since he'd felt so comfortable. Unable to resist a deep yawn, he rested his forearm across his weary eyes and slowly gave in to the cozy serenity that was enticing him.

As she walked into the room, Kitty stopped suddenly when she didn't see Matt sitting on the settee. Spotting him lying on the bed, she let off a soft groan and then walked over to him. She could tell by his heavy breaths and his creaseless brow, that he was sound asleep. Her disappointment faded quickly, when she remembered that he was probably having his most restful sleep in weeks. Turning down the lamp beside the bed, she walked over to the settee and blew out the oil lamp beside it. As she made her way to the opposite side of the bed, the redhead turned down another lantern and removed her robe. Slipping underneath the bed covers, she scurried over to the other side and snuggled up to the lawman. The light from the full moon illuminated the room enough to view the shadow of his sleeping face. Resting her arm over his chest, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Get your rest now, Cowboy. You'll be needing your strength in the morning."

Several hours later, Kitty awoke and immediately swept her arm across the bed in search of Matt. Coming up empty, she explored the dimly lit room and spotted the lawman standing by the window. Snatching her dressing gown, she pulled it over her shoulders and then walked over and stood next to him. As he stared down at the street below, the shadowy moonlight illuminated a pained expression on his face.

Stroking his bare backside, Kitty uttered, "What is it, Matt? Why are you up?"

Continuing to gaze out the window, Matt quietly stated, "Heard some horses."

She nodded sympathetically. Kitty knew that the sound of horses that late at night was always a concern for the marshal. "Who was it?" She inquired.

Turning to her, he smiled slightly and replied, "Just some drovers riding back to camp late." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he added, "Nothing to worry about."

Snuggling closer to his side, she took in a deep breath and uttered, "So what is bothering you? Is it something to do with the trial?"

Without answering, Matt took in a deep breath and then turned to look out the window. "The girls have decided they don't want to face a trial. Bourdon will be tried for the murder of Thomas Collins." Nodding his approval, he added, "The girls will be escorted to their homes…it's just as it should be."

Pursing her lips, Kitty followed his gaze to the street below. She thought about a conversation she'd had with Marcus Fenton which had left her confused, to say the least. Leaning into his side, she softly uttered, "Marcus thinks you let that prisoner go on purpose."

"Hmpf," he grunted.

Eying him for moment, she blurted, "Did you Matt? Did you let him go?"

Looking skyward, he chewed on his lower lip for a moment and then turned to look at her. He didn't know what to say, or how she would react to whatever was said. He could barely see her face, but he knew her expression would be a mix of concern, bewilderment and affection. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he stated, "Look…Kitty…I." Shaking his head, he continued, "It's kind of cold out here. Let's go back to bed". Urging her towards the bed, he stated, "C'mon, it's still too early to be getting up."

Willingly, she climbed into the bed and waited for him to follow. When they both settled, she said, "You haven't answered my question, Cowboy."

Leaning over and kissing her on the lips, he uttered, "C'mon, Red…I think we have more interesting things to do."

As he moved in for another kiss, she quipped, "Oh no you don't, Mister." Pressing on his chest and pushing him away, she continued, "Tell me, Matt. Did you let that prisoner go or not?"

Collapsing onto his back, he let off a deep sigh and muttered, "Why is this so important to you?"

Even in the dark she could sense his annoyance. Making circles on his chest with her forefinger, she quietly stated, "There's bound to be rumours, Matt. I just want to know the truth…did you let the prisoner go?"

He knew that the redhead would not waiver on her request. Pressing the back of his head into his pillow, Matt stared into the darkness and carefully thought about what to say. After a couple of minutes of silence, he realized his effort to find the right words had failed miserably. He could sense the growing impatience in the woman that lay to his side and caught his breath for a moment. Finally, with an exhaustive breath, he uttered, "Yeah."

His answer unnerved her, but didn't surprise. Marcus had also told her that Matt's indiscretion had swayed the girls' decisions to not press charges against Bourdon. It was now official that the prisoner would only be triad for murder and the only girl to testify would be Lindsay Collins. Kitty thoroughly understood the marshal's intentions, but the consequences and speculations regarding his actions concerned her greatly. Matt had saved the girls from a grueling trial, but had opened himself up for heavy criticism and perhaps even disciplinary procedures. She also wondered what would happen if the released prisoner ever surfaced again.

Sensing her apprehension, Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in closer. "It will be okay, Kitty," he whispered. "Marcus isn't going to proceed with this. He certainly doesn't want to force the girls to be witnesses against their will." Leaning over and placing a kiss on her forehead, he added, "Besides, it would be very hard to prove."

Although she knew Matt to be a righteous man, she had heard of instances in the past where he'd stretched his oath as a lawman. She also knew that he hadn't made those choices arbitrarily and that his questionable actions always weighed heavily on him. Although she knew Matt was absolutely certain that the prisoner had no part in the girls' abuse, his actions still concerned her. Letting off a nervous breath, she inquired, "What about the prisoner? What if he turns up one day?"

Without hesitation, the lawman announced, "He won't."

Letting off a soft chuckle, she stated, "How can you be sure of that?"

In a monotone voice, Matt answered, "I was pretty clear about what would happen to him if he did."

His words and tone were unsettling to her. She had no illusions about the man that she loved so dearly. She knew there was a part of Matt that could provoke terror in the most fearless of men. Normally a pleasant and compassionate soul, he could easily become fierce and unyielding if a gross injustice were committed. It was a trait that she didn't like, but had accepted long ago.

Pushing aside her dubious thoughts, she leaned over and traced her finger along his lips. As his lips parted, she leaned closer and offered a long, sensual kiss. Before long, they were embroiled in passion and all thoughts of the past few weeks were lost.

The following week Matt oversaw the procedure for returning the girls to their families. He also worked with Marcus on developing a case against Bourdon. It was an awkward alliance for the lawman and prosecutor, but their professional conduct allowed the men to get the job done.

Matt had sent off his final report to the War Department and was relieved that there hadn't been a reply. Marcus had also sent his report and indicated to the lawman that he would not question the matter of the escaped prisoner any further.

With the majority of the girls on their way to Colorado by train, the remaining girls continued to wait in Dodge for their families. During the week, Matt had also ridden up to Garden City for the stagecoach robbery trial and was pleased that the accused had entered a guilty plea. He was also relieved that the young defendants were only sentenced to two years hard labour. When he returned from Garden City, there was a telegram confirming that the trial for Dan Bourdon would take place in Dodge City. Matt and Marcus were asked to form a jury within the following two weeks.

When the day for the trial arrived, there was an excited buzz around Dodge City. People had come from miles away and most of them were anticipating a guilty verdict, along with the accompanying death sentence.

True to his word, Matt made sure that Bourdon was unable to speak or even look at the Collins women. A couple of times he placed his large frame next to the prisoner and quietly growled "Keep your eyes on the table in front of you. You don't speak to the witnesses, or even look in their direction. I don't need to explain what will happen if you don't do as I say, do I Bourdon?" The defendant had seen enough of the marshal to know that he would follow through on his threat. In fact, the big lawman had already shown a thinly veiled rage on a few occasions.

As anticipated, Bourdon was convicted of the murder of Thomas Collins and was sentenced to death by hanging. It was one of the few executions to take place in Dodge and folks from all over Ford County eagerly awaited the ghoulish event.

Normally Matt had little to do with executions, other than transporting the prisoner or, on occasion, having to be a witness. With the hanging being in Dodge, the lawman was expected to make all the arrangements and see that the court's order was carried out swiftly.

Two days after the execution of Dan Bourdon, an exhausted but relieved Marshal Dillon leaned back in his chair. The trial and consequential hanging had besieged him with constant reminders of his actions and inactions over the past few weeks. The stress of constantly questioning himself had wreaked havoc on his efforts to sleep or eat properly. He had subsequently become irritable to the point of being curt with his most supportive friends. Although they sympathized with his dilemma, they respectfully maintained a wide birth. Only Kitty ventured into his personal space, but only at the lawman's timely requests.

As he tilted back in his chair, he rested his head against the brick wall and closed his eyes. The most troubling of his thoughts immediately surfaced and he realized that his lifelong affirmation to be a lawman had been severely shaken. He knew that it was a common occurrence for a peacemaker to question his commitment to the law. He just never thought it would become his own personal truth.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the window and glanced down Front Street. As he continued to survey the street, he soon realized his passion for upholding the law in Dodge City had escaped him. For a moment, he wondered if he would ever be able to put the memories behind him, or make things right again. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned to look at the two unopened telegrams placed on his desk. Reaching over, he picked up one of the envelopes and tore it open. The message was from the War Department Secretary-Treasurer and it read:

**"Marshal Matt Dillon. Dan Bourdon/Thomas**

**Collins case closed. Commendations for a job**

**well done. Once again Justice triumphs."**

Although he agreed that justice had triumphed, the irony of the commendation made him feel jaded. Crumpling the message in his hand, he tossed it onto the desk and stared at the other telegram.

Unable to spend another minute thinking about his career, he walked over to the door and snatched his hat off the wooden peg. Quickly locking up the office, he started on his way to the Long Branch Saloon. By the time he reached the bar, he had convinced himself time would take care of his concerns and things would most likely return to normal. True to his nature, he could always find a positive outcome to any impasse; despite the unpleasant feelings he was effectively suppressing. Stopping at the saloon doors, he looked over at the bar and spotted Kitty working on her books. Thoughts of gratitude erased his previous concerns and he pushed open the doors with a grand sweep of his hands. As he made his way over to the saloonkeeper, her abundant affection for him was apparent on her smiling face. With an habitual quick glance around the room, he stepped up to her and quietly uttered, "Can I buy you a drink, Miss?"

With a bawdy laugh, she chortled, "You most certainly can, Cowboy."

**The End**


End file.
